When Two Worlds Collide
by Catfisha
Summary: Trevor x Reader. You were a well known (and damned good) thief back in your hometown up north of Los Santos. However, unfortunate circumstances have driven you out of your hometown, and now you're seeking to pick up the pieces of your broken life and sustain an income for yourself. The closest place to start your career over is Los Santos, the prosperous city down south.
1. Moving to Los Santos

Your hand gripped the steering wheel of your black 1966 Chevelle until your knuckles turned white. Your eyes stared intently out into the open road, which seemed to stretch on forever. You could finally see the skyline of Los Santos… The city where all of them women were plastic, and the only economic class was the _upper _class. Ugh. You were only twenty five years old, but you swore to yourself that you'd never set foot in this damned city.

You couldn't believe that you had to resort to going to this fucking shit hole of a city. You'd always hated this city, without even formally being there… Until now. You had a crew that you ran with back home in Sal Franzo, and it was a d_amned _good crew, too. The six of you fucking ran that city. Well, illegally. But you were all always one step ahead of the authorities, and that's what counted… Well, until just recently. There had been a bit of a snitch among the crew, and you had never found out who exactly it was. It all happened too fast.

Because of the infamous piece of shit snitch, the cops had finally gotten that last lead that they needed to take all of your crew down. You, however, fled the city just at the right moment. The minute you received the news that the gig was up, you split. You didn't abandon your crew, however. That was the plan all along. You didn't even know if any members of your crew were still alive. And if they were, were they in jail?

These were all questions that you would more than likely never get an answer to. But, one thing was crystal clear in your mind… That one day, you didn't care how long it took, you would _kill that god damned snitch_. You would find out who ruined your fucking life, and slit their throat yourself.

God, you already had trust issues before. You and that crew had known each other for ___years_. Twelve, to be precise. So for someone to just… Ugh, fuck, feeling betrayed was only skimming the surface here.

You wanted revenge. Because of whoever the fuck it was among your highly trusted circle of friends, you had to leave your entire life behind in Sal Franzo… Your family, your career in thievery, ___everything_.

You would make them fucking _pay_.

As your mind continued to dwell on the current issue, you found that you'd been gripping your steering wheel so tightly that your hands were starting to hurt. You let out a heavy sigh, and pressed down on the acceleration. Your Chevelle purred, and powered on down the seemingly endless road towards Los Santos.

~/~

"Do I look like I'm fucking around with you here? STEP THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE REGISTER!" You roared, pointing a pistol confidently at the terrified elderly, Caucasian male's face. He had both hands up, and he was backed up against the wall directly behind the counter. "P-Please, ma'am, don't kill me!" He cried out, literally too terrified to comply with your orders.

You were growing impatient. You groaned and forced yourself up towards the register, shoving the elderly man out of the way and on to the floor. He landed with a thud, but he didn't get a single second of a break from you. You kept your fully loaded pistol pointed squarely at his head, not afraid to blow his brains out. You needed to survive, and this was the only way that you knew how. You started shoving the money from the register into your dirty black backpack, the fabric worn and even torn in some places. It was all you had for now. And for a small load of cash like this, it was perfect.

You were robbing a gas station. This was the second gas station that you'd robbed during your (so far) week long stay in Los Santos, living on the streets. You were trying to save some money up for food and other necessities to survive on. For now, at least you had your Chevelle to sleep and travel in.

After you loaded all of the money up into the backpack, you knelt down and hovered threateningly over the elderly cashier. You pressed the pistol uncomfortably firmly against his forehead, your eyes digging into his. "If you call the cops on me, old man… I'll come back for you. Do you understand me? I will find you, and I _will __kill you._" You almost whispered, your voice hissing through your teeth.

You then stood up and made a mad dash out of the gas station with your new found loot, finding the nearest discrete location to remove the identity protecting mask that you'd worn so the cops wouldn't be able to identify you through the cameras. You stuffed the mask in your back pack and let out a heavy sigh, deciding to take a casual approach and head back to the streets. There was no use in running anymore, you felt safe from any authorities… For now.

It was a typically sunny day in Los Santos, and it had been about two in the afternoon. You hadn't been able to change your clothing in some time now, so you were stuck in your jeans and your leather jacket. Oh, and your leather boots. All of which were starting to get worn down and dirty from a week of living on the streets.

You were a fool to let your guard down for even a moment. Suddenly, you felt your back pack being ripped from your arms, and some asshole young man was running off with it in front of you.

God, you swore you were seeing red. Rage boiled up in you, and adrenaline sparked off in you. Without a second thought, you started barreling after the young man with all of the speed that your feminine legs could muster up. However, you decided to be smart about this. "Someone HELP! He's got my bag!" You cried out, putting on the damsel in distress act for the public. You barreled down after the young man regardless. And, guess what? What a fucking surprise, no one helped you catch the man. Typical.

You caught up with the kid eventually. It was clear that he was a bit of an amateur, because he did a shit job of getting you off of his tail. You grabbed the kid by the back of his shirt with a firm hand and pulled him into the dingey alley way to your left. He thrashed and protested against you, even trying to take his shirt off at one point, but to no avail. You dragged him to the very back of the alley way, where the public dared to never go.

"Who in the FUCK do you think you are, HUH!?" Your voice boomed, and you whipped your pistol out and pointed it at his face. "What's stopping me from putting a fucking bullet in your head right now, huh?" You growled, glaring at the kid. He looked like he couldn't be more than twenty years old. He was also latino. He squirmed underneath you, "No, man! What the fuck is wrong with you! I'm sorry! Here, just take your shit back and go, man! Damn… Crazy ass bitch."

That triggered you. You slammed the handle of your pistol hard against the kid's skull with a powerful THWACK! "You must be suicidal, kid. I've never seen such a fucking idiot before in my life. You know what? Fuck this." And without a second thought, you pulled the trigger.

BAM!

Crimson pooled at your feet, and you took a moment to feel the satisfaction that came for you with that kill. What an idiot… Sheesh. But, clearly, _you _were also a fucking idiot, because everyone on the god damned street and around heard that gunshot. People were crowded around the entrance into the alleyway, curiously gazing in to the scene with a frantic nature. At least three of them were on their phones, likely calling the cops. Fuck.

You needed to act quickly.

You took your backpack back from the kid's lifeless body, and ran the fuck out of there as quickly as you could. You could already hear the sirens. Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck. "_Okay, stay calm. You've been in worse situation than this. You can lose those cops." _You thought to yourself, sighing, and taking a moment to collect yourself.

You ran the fuck out of the as quickly as you could, taking only side roads and alley ways. You had no idea where you were going, but you needed to by anywhere but here.

No. You needed to get back to your _car. _Once that thought came, you made a mad dash in the general direction of wherever the hell you left your Chevelle.

After a good half an hour of frantically running on foot, barely evading cops, you managed to finally make it to your car. You could hear sirens screeching dangerously close by… Maybe a block or so away. It was too close for your comfort. You fired up your Chevelle and started driving off to… Whoever the fuck knew where. Somewhere.

~/~

You hadn't stopped driving since your escape. You had no idea where anything was in Los Santos, but you knew that you needed to stay out of the city for a bit and lay low. You just didn't know ___where__ you_ could go to "lay low" around here that was secluded enough for that.

You turned on the radio as you drove, tuning into the news station. Sure enough, you tuned in at just the right moment.

"… A young latino male was tragically murdered in an alley way on Vinewood Boulevard only hours ago! Authorities are happy to report that civilians have provided an accurate enough description of the assailant to track them down and bring justice for the young male! Suspect was last seen escaping in a black 1966 Chevelle…"

You switched the station. Hearing that they even managed to see what car you were driving around in was starting to freak you the fuck out. Now, you needed a new fucking car. Fabulous.

You found yourself on the freeway now, and it seemed to go on for an eternity. You were driving aimlessly, but… You looked at your surroundings, and it was progressively getting more and more secluded from the city. A grin crept on your face. Maybe luck ___was __o_n your side after all. You decided to just keep driving, and see where it led you.

~/~

Within about two hours, you found yourself in a fucking _desert_. A desert! You'd never been so god damned happy to be in the middle of butt fuck no where in your entire life! You looked around at your new found surroundings curiously, seeing nothing but the vast, miserable desert and some shitty trailers here and there. The culture shock from this area to Los Santos was absolutely drastic. You couldn't believe that they were only mere hours apart from each other.

You found yourself in a small neighborhood of shitty trailers. Accompanying them were their owners, most of which were outside talking to each other. Hm… Small neighborhood. Everyone seemed to know everyone here.

You passed by a sign that read: "Welcome to S_andy Shores"_

_"Sandy Shores_, huh? Whatever, it's going to have to do for now until I figure out what the plan is with my fucking life here." You grumbled to yourself, finding somewhere to pull over momentarily while you collected your thoughts.

You leaned back with a sigh, closing your eyes and rubbing them. "Man… What in the hell am I going to do?" You said to yourself, wishing that you were mentally capable of just getting a shitty retail job somewhere like a normal person. But, no. Of course not. You knew you could never be a "normal" person. You never had been.

_TAP TAP!_

Your eyes shot open and you nearly jumped out of your seat at the sound of someone tapping on your window. You looked to your left and saw three men, all wearing the same black leather jacket with the words "The Lost" printed on the back of their jackets. They all had a motorcycle at their side. You rolled your eyes. "Fabulous. A biker gang. Just what I needed." You then rolled down your window, using your hand to protect your eyes from the harsh sunlight. "Can I help you?" You asked, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, miss, you sure can!" The man closest to you said, his tone slightly sarcastic. "You can help us by tellin' us why some suspicious black car has just decided to roll up on ___our_territory. Seems awfully shifty to me, little lady." He had a slight southern accent.

You scowled. "Are you kidding me? I'm just parked here, taking a breather. Leave me the fuck alone, and go be a paranoid freak somewhere else please. I'm not in the mood." You growled, rolling your window back up.

However, much to your surprise, your car window shattered beside you. The man's elbow rammed right into the window, and slammed into the side of your face with alarming force. "AGH! Fuck! Seriously?!" You growled, holding your face. You grabbed your pistol and kicked your car door open, pointing it at the man that was confronting you. "Three on one? You're kidding me, right? You guys are a bunch of pack mentality pussies." You scowled, glaring challengingly at the three bikers in front of you.

"You're gonna regret talkin' shit, you little bitch!" The biker closest to you said, throwing a punch into your gut. Unprepared, you took the hit and heaved as the breath was knocked out of you. Without hesitation, you regained your footing and shot at the main biker confronting you, managing to land two shots in his chest. He collapsed on to the dusty desert ground, holding himself.

The other two men with him attacked you simultaneously, pulling knives out. You felt a blade pierce into your side, and you cried out in pain. "You fucking PRICKS!" You roared, wildly shooting at the both of them. You weren't aiming as well as you probably should have been, so you only managed to get one of the men in his leg and the other in his arm.

They continued to pursue you. You kept shooting, trying to aim a little better this time around. You could feel blood pouring out of the stab wound on your side, soaking your clothing. One of the two collapsed on the ground; it looked like you had managed to land a shot in his chest.

You tried to take a shot at the last biker standing, but your pistol tragically clicked. Empty. Fuck!

Desperate times called for desperate measures. You lunged at the biker, throwing all of your weight on him. You sat on top of him and began wildly smashing the handle of your pistol into his skull. Blood splattered all over your arm and your face, but you didn't care.

You needed to ___survive._

With each blunt hit to the man's now destroyed skull, you let out a small scream. You knew that he was long since dead, but you needed to take out your aggressions and frustrations with everything on _something. _

"I… OH, I LOVE YOU!"

You were startled to suddenly hear another male's voice. Already on the defense, you lifted the bloody pistol up to strike again. You looked up to see an older man, maybe in his early fourties, approaching you. He was balding, and he'd been dressed in a shabby white t-shirt that looked like it hadn't been washed in five years. He was also wearing some jeans that looked equally as filthy, with some aged blood stains decorating them.

The man approached you and rather theatrically knelt down in front of you, his knees carelessly slamming into the destroyed skull of the man that you'd just brutally murdered with a grotesque SPLAT!

"You need to marry me. But before you do, sweetheart, we've got some uh, issues that we need to sort out." His tone of voice dropped to a slightly more serious tone, but you could tell that it was blatantly sarcastic. Who was with this guy, anyway? He seemed fucking batshit.

You stood up and backed away from him. "Were these your buddies, pal? Because if they were, you're fucking next."

The man got up and stormed over to you. You normally weren't frightened easily, but he was beyond intimidating. Even to you. You felt slight fear rise in you as the man rather angrily approached you. He got in your face, "How DARE you disrespect me on my OWN property! Look, here's the deal, ___princess_." He emphasized the word with a rather vile hiss. His voice boomed louder than you had ever heard any man scream.

"Those men were MY FUCKING MEN TO KILL! Do you understand? You don't just walk up on MY fucking property and take what's mine, THIEF!"

You were genuinely confused. You held both of your hands up. "Look, man, those fuckers were starting shit with me. All I did was defend myself. Calm the fuck down. It's called survival. And last time I checked, an open street isn't your property."

The door opened from the trailer directly behind you and the man. A Caucasian, blonde haired man stepped out, his hair in dreads and up in a messy ponytail. He seemed to have… Some kind of clown makeup on?

"T-Trevor? Is somethin' bad happenin'?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP WADE!"

"But… Weren't we supposed to be gettin' ice cream?"

The man whirled around and glared at Wade, pointing at him. "GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THAT TRAILER, BEFORE I _DROWN_ YOU IN FUCKING ICE CREAM!"

"… That actually sounds pretty nice." The blonde said, before shutting the trailer door and heading back inside. He seemed pretty fucking stupid.

Trevor whirled back around to you, looking like he was restraining every ounce of himself back from ripping you to shreds with his bare hands. "Just… FUCK! Now, those men are on YOUR head, sugar. You're fucking with MY industry. I needed to kill those men AND they're little fucking piece of shit friends so that I could run this place! NOT YOU, THIEF!"

You started to walk back to your car. "Look, pal… Trevor, was it? It's been real fucking entertaining watching you flip your shit over virtually nothing, but I've got some shit to sort out, so…"

Trevor nearly charged after you. "No, no, NO! You don't just GET to fucking leave like that after stealing from me! You OWE me! You understand?"

You scoffed. "I don't owe you shit, dude. All I did was look after myself."

Trevor was trying to contain himself. "… You wanna make some money, right? C'mon, EVERYONE needs a little money! And I don't think I'd have the heart to let a pretty little thing like you walk off with that probably fucking fatal stab wound there! So… " His tone was melodramatically sympathetic. He was obviously being sarcastic. "How 'bout you repay me by doing some jobs for me, huh? Repaying me for being a little fucking thief? MAYBE I'll fucking pay you well, WHO KNOWS!"

Trevor approached you further, and you only backed up more. This guy was starting to freak you out. But…. He was oddly entertaining. Trevor dropped to his knees in front of you, once again. "All I know is that I FUCKING LOVE YOU! C'mon, don't reject me!"

You sighed. Beggars couldn't be choosers, especially in your situation…

"Alright, fine. What do you need me to do?"


	2. Wade

Trevor's trailer was probably the most filthy fucking thing that you'd ever seen in your life.

You sat with your slender legs crossed on his barely functional, beaten couch, casually watching the TV. Trevor was gone for the time being. He said that he needed to "take care of some stupid shit," and that he'd be back later tonight. Probably.

Beer cans, needles, broken glass, and probably every disease known to man was scattered all over the trailer's floor. The plastic tile spread flooring was cracked in some places, showing molding wood beneath. You had to pee, but you'd promised yourself that you would never use ___that_god forsaken bathroom. You'd probably catch a disease if you even thought about sitting on that toilet. Blegh.

After you had agreed to do some jobs for Trevor, he basically put you on house arrest in his trailer. You'd been here for the past day or so. Hey, it was better than nothing. At least you had a roof over your head, right? You silently wondered if your Chevelle would be okay out there by itself… Some stupid fucking hillbilly piece of shit had probably already made off with it.

A knock came at the trailer door, and you were hesitant to go and answer it. It wasn't exactly your place to, since it wasn't your house. You still considered yourself a temporary guest. Plus, god knows who wanted to see Trevor… It was more than likely some crazy fuck that was looking to kill him or something.

You waited it out to see if they would go away. Five minutes had passed, and the knocking still persisted. Good god, who the fuck sits there and knocks on a door for that long!? You sat up, irritated, and grabbed a knife from the nearby counter to be safe. Just in case it was some crazy meth head. You slammed the door open, letting it fly and smash the inner wall behind it. You held your knife out, "_Yes_?" You asked, your voice dripping with calmed irritation.

The man in front of you, standing on Trevor's porch, was someone that you had recognized. It was the blonde guy from yesterday. Wade, was it? You relaxed yourself a bit, seeing that the blonde was starting to coware at the sight of the knife in your hand. "I didn't do nothin', ma'am! I-I'm just here for Trevor!"

His voice had to be the funniest shit that you'd heard in a long time. He sounded like he had come straight from a cartoon. You sighed, leaning on the door frame with your arms crossed. "He's not here. He's probably out killing people. What do you want with him?"

"I-Well, I just wanted to see if we was gonna get that ice cream that we was talkin' bout…" He sounded slightly disappointed. He hung his head like a kicked puppy. How old was this guy, anyway?

You looked around, then shrugged. "What the hell. ___I'll__ t_ake you for ice cream. I've honestly got nothing better to do. Trevor has me on house arrest because he keeps claiming that I "stole his kills" or some stupid shit like that. That guy is crazy." You stepped out of the trailer, wearing the same clothes that you had been for over a week now. You desperately needed a shower. You felt disgusting, and your hair was getting greasy. The desert heat wasn't helping, either.

Wade followed behind you, giddy as ever. "Yeah, ice cream! Ice cream!" He cheered, resemblant of a child. "You killed them biker guys, right? Them guys kinda ___are_after Trevor. Trevor went and blew their houses up!"

You were happy to see that your Chevelle was still in one piece. As you opened the driver's side door to get in, you stopped and looked at Wade. "He ___what_?" You asked, eyes narrowing.

Wade got in through the passenger side. "Yeah! He went and blew 'em all up! He killed Johnny, too. And he was fuckin' that bitch Ashley. So they ain't too nice to him."

You rolled your eyes and sighed, starting your car up with a beautiful purr. "That… Explains everything. If only ___he__ c_ould have told me that. Shit. Maybe I would have understood a bit more if he wasn't such a psychotic fucktard about it."

You started driving off, "So, where's the nearest ice cream place, then? I can't imagine that there would be ice cream in the desert."

"Uhhh, I think they sell ice cream at that store down the street. It would be awful nice to go get the good ice cream in Los Santos, though… With Floyd…" You didn't say anything in response, you just drove. You assumed that Trevor wouldn't be back until much later, so you were safe to leave the trailer without him noticing. He'd taken your gun away from you, so you couldn't exactly defend yourself properly against him if you tried to escape.

Basically, you were stuck here. For now. All you had to do was kiss Trevor's ass and do some work for him, and you'd be able to head back to Los Santos and try to buy an apartment somewhere. You did sort of like the seclusion of the desert, though… You hated that city.

It didn't take long before you found the store that Wade was talking about. It was a simple little liquor store. It looked a beat beat up from the weather, like every other building in this town. Wade enthusiastically jumped in his seat, "There! THERE! Ice cream!"

You pulled the car over and stepped out. "Go ahead. Get whatever you want." You had more than enough money to buy the guy some ice cream from all of those gas station robberies. You followed Wade inside of the small liquor store, which had been quietly playing some country music overhead inside. Wade ran through the store and ran straight to the small freezer box in the back, opening the plastic doors. He started picking one of each kind of packaged ice cream bars in there.

You sighed and shook your head… You shouldn't have let him get whatever he wanted. But, the guy was nice. A little stupid, but nice. And… You wanted to schmooze up to him a bit to get some information about Trevor out of him. Wade approached you with both of his arms full of packaged ice cream. "Can I get 'em? Can I!?" He asked enthusiastically. You simply crossed your arms and motioned your head towards the counter. "Go ahead."

He cheered and ran up to the counter. The cashier rang up about ten different ice cream bars, shaking his head. He was an older man. "It's 'bout time someone bought that kid some damned ice cream…" The cashier mumbled to himself, sticking the ice cream in a plastic bag. "That'll be $22.50, ma'am." You handed the money over to him, then gave the plastic bag to Wade. "You're welcome."

Wade grabbed you and hugged you rather tightly. "Thank ya, lady! Thank ya! Trev woulda never done that!"

~/~

You sat in Trevor's trailer with Wade while he snarfed down his ice cream next to you on Trevor's couch. "So, Wade, tell me a little more about Trevor. How did he get here? Why did he piss off that biker gang?"

Wade, with melted ice cream all around his mouth, replied with "I forget how he got here, buuut… He went and pissed off that biker gang cause I think he wants to be some kinda leader round here or somethin'. Somethin' to do with the meth!"

"Oh, of course. It's ___always_about the drugs, isn't it? Ugh. I can't believe that I managed to get myself involved in a bunch of shitty meth head drama… This is ridiculous. All because I defended myself."

"Well, I think yous a real nice lady. Ya want one?" He offered one of the ice cream bars to you. You shrugged, and took it. "Well, Wade, you'd be sorely surprised. I'm not all that nice. Trust me."

You both jumped when the trailer door violently flung open. You were honestly surprised that the damned door hadn't flown off of it's hinges. Trevor came storming into his trailer, covered in blood, with a wild look in his eyes. He stomped over to you and grabbed you by your forearm, tugging you up off of the couch with a harsh yank. Wade sat and watched, slightly wide-eyed. It looked like Trevor was pissed off about something, as usual, and intended to take it out on you.

Trevor got up in your face, trying to intimidate you. "What the FUCK is this, huh!? Where'd you get the ice cream? Did I TELL you that you could leave?! You don't have the right to leave, THIEF!" He roared, his disgusting smelling breath flooding over your face. Wade stood up, hands out. "T-Trevor! You put the nice lady down!"

Trevor's head shot over to Wade, and he pointed a finger at him. "You SHUT THE FUCK UP! Get the hell out of my fucking trailer!" He roared, and Wade complied without question. Trevor scared the shit out of him most of the time. He'd left his ice cream there to melt.

Trevor slammed you against the nearest wall of the trailer, causing the whole damned thing to shake. You said nothing. You simply let him scream at you. You refused to show that you were intimidated by him. You refused to let him have any kind of power or control over you. He continued screaming at you, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I GO THROUGH!? God, I haven't even seen my mother in YEARS! AUGH!" Now, he was very clearly just ___finding_things to scream about. He released you from his vice grip, and started pacing around the trailer.

You stood there, arms crossed. "Are you ___done_now, Trevor?"

Trevor started knocking everything off of the counters, letting everything break on the floor. Great, more broken glass on the floor. Just what the trailer needed. You were starting to get annoyed.

With balls of steel, without thinking over it twice to reconsider how much of an idiot you were probably being, you strode over to the rampaging Trevor. You grabbed him by his broad shoulders, turned him to face you, then planted a firm slap across his face. "Get a fucking HOLD of yourself, man! Jesus! What in the fuck happened?!" You yelled, staring into the eyes of someone who could have easily killed you on the spot for what you had just done.

But you refused to show fear. You wouldn't let him have that satisfaction. Everyone else feared him in this fucking neighborhood… You wanted to be the exception to that. Trevor silently fumed, his jaw clenched, hands balled into tight fists. The two of you had a bit of a staring contest for a couple of moments.

You swore that you could literally ___see_him trying to physically restrain himself from beating the ever loving shit out of you. You continued, breaking the silence. "Look, I just wanted you to calm the fuck down. Sorry for hitting you." You stepped away from him, but didn't turn your back on him.

Trevor let out a long breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring. He slammed his fist on the counter. "FUCK!" He turned his back on you for a moment, then looked back at you. "Did I ever mention how much I fucking love you? Come on, come here… Give Uncle T a hug." His tone of voice seemed to drastically change. It was… Slightly alarming to you. This man was probably the most bi-polar person that you'd ever met. You kept your distance.

"GIVE ME A FUCKING HUG!" He roared, throwing his arms out for you. You stood your ground. "No." You refused simply, crossing your arms. You didn't know what it was, but… Something about this man's temper attracted you. It pissed you off because of how excessive it was, but something in you liked it in a weird way. And, you were pretty sure that slapping him across the face like that actually did help calm him down.

Trevor looked incredibly frustrated. "Why the FUCK don't you ever do what I ask you to do? Everything is ALWAYS a fucking fight with you!" You were waiting for another long, lengthy rant. But he surprised you. He walked up to you, and put both of his hands on your shoulders. "And that, my little lady, is why I fucking love you! You're not a complete pussy! Sugar tits, we are going to have ___quite_the partnership, I can see it now! You know what? I should show you off to Michael!"

You raised an eyebrow. "You confuse the fuck out of me, Trevor. I can never tell when you're being legitimate or not. And… Michael? I'm assuming that's one of your buddies? Look, pal, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not here to make friends with you. I'm here to do some jobs so that you'll let me go, and that's all."

Trevor melodramatically pouted. "Oh, but we're having ___so much fun_here, doll! I like you! Let's go murder someone, then I'll stick my penis here in their eye! Or… Maybe ___your__ e_ye."

You waved your hand dismissively. "Do you have a job for me or not, buddy? You can fuck my eye socket later. We've got business to take care of."

"Business shmisness! Let's fuck, sweetheart. Right here, right now."

You scowled. "Try it, fucker. I dare you." You would rather fuck a dead horse… Too bad you did, in fact, find him rather shamefully attractive. You just tried not to think about it, honestly.

Trevor approached you again, but before he could even lay a finger on you, you kneed him squarely in the loin. Trevor collapsed on the ground in front of you, holding his crotch. "FUCK! Really!?"

"Yes, really. Why don't you ever hit me back, huh? You seem to ___love _beating the shit out of your other friends. Why not me? You've never laid a finger on me." You asked curiously.

He tried to regain himself. "I don't hit chicks, sweetheart. Never have, never will. Unless they're trying to kill me." He grunted, trying to stand back up. He pointed a finger at you, stating with a matter of fact tone, "You need to marry me. I fucking love you. BUT our marriage can come later. For now, we're heading over to my buddy Michael's place in Los Santos to pick up a job."

"And will this job count towards my ticket out of here?"

"Maybe. If I feel like it. Anyway, come on princess, we're headin' to Los Santos!"

~/~

The drive down to Los Santos was a long, and treacherously boring one. You sat in the passenger seat of Trevor's red Canis Bodhi truck. This was probably a good time to get acquainted with the bastard next to you. Before you could say anything, he spoke first. "So, what brought you to the shitty city of Los Santos? Or, better yet, why was a pretty little thing like you in butt fuck no where Sandy Shores?"

You were a fairly honest person, and you felt that you could trust Trevor enough to at least tell him a bit about yourself. "I had a good crew back home. I'm from up north, in Sal Franzo. I had a ___damned_good crew that I ran with for about twelve years. We were always one step ahead of the cops. Always. We would rob banks, jewelry stores, gas stations, everything… I was living the fucking life of successful thievery out there, man. I had more money than I knew what to do with. But…" You trailed off, your hands clenching into tight fists.

"But…" Trevor said, waving his hand for you to continue.

"But, there was a piece of shit snitch among us. ___Someone_betrayed us, and I still to this day have no idea who it was out of all of us. Feeling betrayed doesn't even begin to cut it. My goal is revenge, and I almost feel a legitimate ___need__ t_o slit the throat of the fucking snitch that ruined my life."

"But that doesn't answer my question. ___Why_are you here?" Trevor's tone of voice seemed very genuine. He didn't sound sarcastic, spiteful, angry… He was simply listening. He seemed like he cared. But you never knew with him.

"I was getting to that. I'm here because I needed to flee Sal Franzo. I had to flee the city _immediately_, or else I would have gotten arrested. The minute I heard that the gig was up, I got in my car and split. I ended up in Sandy Shores because I was trying to find some place secluded to lay low for a while… I ended up stirring up some trouble in Los Santos as well. I killed a guy in broad daylight like an idiot, and everyone and their mother saw it."

Trevor nodded. "Sounds like you know how to handle yourself, sweet cheeks. We're gonna need that. And, about that whole ___revenge_thing… Take it from me, revenge just makes you fucking stupid."

You scoffed. "You seem like the vengeful type of person, though. That's almost surprising to hear you say that."

"Oh, believe me, I ___am _a vengeful piece of shit. I just happen to know that it makes you an impulsive idiot. _Anyway_, I'm gonna go ahead and take a ___wild_guess that you're going to want to know my big tragic back story as well? We're like two high school girls at a sleep over! Except… Without the sexy pillow fights."

He was starting to grow on you. Talking with him like this helped you learn that, if you caught him in the right mood, he was a sensible person. You turned to glance over at him for a minute, taking in some of his features for what they were. Strong, masculine jawline. Broad build. A permanent scowl on his slightly aged face. He couldn't be more than 45 years old. His hair was naturally dark, but looked like it was just starting to turn grey. It was subtle, though.

You quickly turned your attention back to the road before he noticed you being a fucking weirdo and staring at him. You could see him smirking from the corner of your eye. "I saw that, princess." He stated, rather smuggly.

You scoffed. "You didn't see shit, dickhead. You're imagining things."

You never did find out about ___his_back story on that drive. You never asked.


	3. Planning The Heist

"MIKEY! AMIGO!" Trevor boomed, inviting himself into Michael De Santa's Los Santos home. He kicked the expensive front doors in, stepping into the rather expensive and lavish household. It was painfully apparent that Michael De Santa had some money.

You followed behind Trevor quietly, your arms folded. Michael, dressed in a grey suit, stepped out from the living room to see his old shithead friend Trevor Philips parading into his home. As usual. "Trevor, what the hell?! Do you know how much that fuckin' door costs?" Michael said, motioning to the door. Trevor waved a hand dismissively at him, "Oh, shut the fuck up, sugar tits. We both know that you've got moooore than enough money to replace the damned thing. NOW! Let's get this show on the road, huh?!"

You stayed quiet behind Trevor. You were rather shy when it came to new people, and you were never one to initiate conversations with people. Michael, a grown man about the same age as Trevor, spotted you. He motioned to you and gave Trevor a look. "Oh _god damn it_, T! What the fuck did I tell you about kidnapping women? First it was , now her? Man, you've sure got a way with women, pal…"

At the mention of Patricia, Trevor flared up a bit. He pointed a finger at Michael, "DON'T YOU FUCKING BRING PATRICIA INTO THIS! Oh and, for the record, this little lady behind me ___happens_to be working for me. So, fuck you sideways."

Michael sighed. "Does she have a fucking name, T? Jesus."

You stepped up finally. You held your hand out to Michael. "Hey, I'm _. Pleased to meet you, buddy." Michael shook your hand. "Michael De Santa. If this shithead over here gives you any problems, just call me."

"And what in the fuck is THAT supposed to mean, _Michael_? Hey, _, let me enlighten you a fucking bit on Michael's history." Michael put his hands up. "T, come the fuck on. ___Really_? We're doing ___this_now?" Trevor continued, holding his arms out. "Michael ___Townley_over here has a habit of pretending that he's _fucking dead _for ten years at a time, so try not to get too close to him, princess. _He might die on you a couple of times._"

You simply stood there, watching as the two grown men in front of you bickered like a fucking married couple for what seemed like an eternity. Clearly, these two had a looong fucking history together. Anyone could tell that right off the bat. Michael flared up a bit, "Do you fucking ___always_have to bring that crap up whenever we're in the same room, T? You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right? Grow the fuck up."

You decided to but in at this point, because this was getting insufferable to listen to. "HEY! How about the ___both_of you shut the fuck up, and we get down to business, huh? What's this "job" that Trevor was telling me about? If there's money in it for me, I'm in."

Michael protested, "T, you sure we can trust her? We need professionals with us. We can't be letting amateurs fuck up our heists. You know that."

Trevor was about to back you up, but you decided to speak for yourself. "Hey, Michael. It's unwise to dismiss someone's abilities without even properly knowing them. Before I got chased out of my home town, I ran a pretty fucking good crew up north from here. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Michael nodded, then shrugged. He started walking back into his living room. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say. We'll just have to ___see_about that." Trevor growled, "Don't be a prick, Mikey. I saw this girl bash a guys brains in. And if I do say so myself, she's pretty damned hot when she's covered in blood freshly after a murder." He smirked, nudging you on the shoulder.

You flipped him off. "Bite me, asshole."

Trevor chuckled. "With pleasure, princess."

"Hey, fuckin' save it alright? Jesus. I'm just waiting on Lester and Frank to get here, then we'll start discussing the details of the heist." Michael said, trying to protect you from T's rather… Sexually explicit ways. Michael pulled out his phone and called Franklin Clinton, a guy that he and T had been running with for a little while now. The kid was good at what he did.

"Hey, Frank, you and Lest gonna be here soon? T's here with a girl that he brought along for the heist." Michael said, listening to Franklin through the phone. Michael nodded, "Alright, see ya soon Frank." He turned his attention back towards his guests. "Frank and Lest are gonna be a couple of minutes. Frank just picked Lester up from the factory, so… Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get us some drinks or something."

You decided to intervene. "Uh, hey, I'm sorry if this comes off as being incredibly imposing, but is there a shower that I could use here? I haven't showered in over a week. "Disgusting" doesn't even begin to cover how I'm feeling right now, man." Trevor chuckled. "Only a week? Priss." You shot a glare at him, giving him a playful punch to his arm. "Shut up, you filthy cocksucker." Trev gave you a wink.

"Yeah, you can use our shower. Be my guest. It'll give me and T some time to talk, anyway. It's upstairs. I'm sure you can figure out how to work it, it's not rocket science." Michael said, taking a seat on the couch in his living room. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, and he'd left the bottle on the table for Trevor. Trevor plopped down on the couch next his best friend. "Soooo, Mikey, how's the dysfunctional family going?" Trevor said, taking a slug of whiskey right out of the bottle.

Michael shrugged. "Eh, same old same old. Trev… Seriously, who's the girl? She your new toy or something? What's going on with that?" He sounded slightly concerned for you, but he mostly sounded irritated. Because he knew Trevor better than anyone else, and he knew that his best friend didn't just have you around for "friendly" reasons.

You'd made your way upstairs and managed to find the shower. You passed by a door with flowers decorating the front of it, and some… Rather obnoxiously high voice came from within the room's depths. Ew. Fucking valley girls. All you could make out was: "Oh. My. GOD! I know! His dick is SO small! I swear, I could floss my teeth with it!"

You shook your head and kept going. You entered the De Santa's bathroom and figured the shower out, stripping your now absolutely filthy clothes off and dropping them on the floor. You stepped in, and let the blissfully warm water run down every curve of your body. God, this shower was borderline fucking orgasmic to you right now. You washed your hair about three times, just for good measure, and even used some conditioner as well. You also scrubbed the shit out of your body more times than you were willing to admit.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the boys had still been talking. Trevor responded to Michael's little question with a smirk. "I like her. She's a good chick. She's got some fucking balls, thank fuck. But she's only around because she ___meddled_in my affairs by killing some bikers in Sandy Shores. So, she needs to pay me back by doing some jobs for me."

Michael shook his head and sighed. "T, are you fuckin' kiddin' me? You seriously think that this girl ___knew_that she was killing your little rivals off for you? She couldn't have. She had to be acting in self defense."

Trevor slammed a fist down on his knee. "I FUCKING KNOW! God _damn, _how many fucking times do I need to hear that crap? I KNOW! Self defense, shmelf defense. What the fuck ever. She still owes me, I couldn't give a shit less about her innocent ignorance."

A smile suddenly crept on Michael's face. He leaned back, folding his arms, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "Aaaah… I see what's goin' on here, T. You're just keepin' her around because you dig her, aren't you? I don't think that you honestly believe that she owes you anything. That gotta be an excuse."

Trevor clenched his hands into fists, jolting up from the couch. He pointed at Michael, "You SHUT THE FUCK UP, Townley, or I'll tie your dick around your neck and _skip fucking rope with it_! Or, better yet, I'll wrap ___my_cock around your throat! Ya like the sound of that, shit stain? Huh?!"

Michael buckled over with laughter. "Buddy, I'd like to see you fucking___try_to stretch a dick out like that." He knew Trevor well enough to know that he definitely dug that chick. He had a habit of hiding shit with his anger.

Upstairs, you didn't exactly want to put your filthy clothes back on your newly cleaned body. You decided to just wrap a towel around yourself, and head back downstairs. You didn't really have any other clothes to change into, so… You sort of had to face the awkward situation of walking out there in nothing but a towel. Whatever. You'd deal with it. You leaned on the arch way that led into the living room. Trevor had been standing, looking like he wanted to rip Michael's head off, and Michael had been sitting on the couch with some whiskey.

"What'd you say to piss him off ___this_time, Michael?" You chuckled, your arms holding your towel around you. Trevor looked over when he heard you, and his hand shot down to his crotch almost instantaneously. "GODDDD damn it! I'm gettin' a semi! Fucking shit…" He grumbled, shuffling off into the corner while holding his crotch. You laughed, "Jesus, Trev, you're like some high school boy sneaking into the girl's locker room for the first time. Keep that raging boner under control, man." Michael bellowed out in laughter. He motioned over to you, "Hey, T, I like this chick! She doesn't put up with your shit!"

You had to admit, you'd partially walked down in nothing but a towel on purpose. _Just _to mess with Trevor. You wanted that kind of attention from him… And it was starting to worry you a bit. Trevor turned around to face you finally, pointing towards you. "AUGH! If we were at the trailer, princess, it would be ___over_for you!"

You grinned. "Oh? And what's _that _supposed to mean, hm?" You asked, teasingly lowering the front of your towel ever so slightly… Juuust enough to where your breasts began to pop out. You had a shit eating grin on your face that could easily win an award.

Trevor was completely fucking beyond himself. All he wanted to do was take you somewhere and fuck you silly. God damn it! You were an evil fucking temptress of a woman. "Oh? Is that what we're doing now, sweetheart? Really? You wanna play _games _with Uncle T?" And without a second thought, Trevor dropped his pants… And his underwear… to his ankles.

Michael cringed and covered his eyes. "Woah, WOAH! What the fuck, T! Pull your fuckin' pants up man!" Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time that Michael had seen his best friend's genitals.

You were absolutely fucking flabbergasted. This man was… Erm, very _blunt_, to say the least. He was messing with the wrong girl, though. Without hesitation, you matched his little shock jock maneuver and opened your towel up to reveal your breasts. You looked him dead in the eyes, with a straight face, and said: "You have a dick, I have tits. Hallefuckinglujah."

Trevor wasn't expecting you to do that. Michael was nearly having a fucking heart attack on the couch at this point. "What the fuck! Can we ___please_put our fucking genitals away now?! Tits and dicks everywhere! Lester and Franklin are gonna be here any minute now, for fuck's sake!"

You'd almost completely forgotten about them. You covered yourself up, and gave Trevor a good shit eating grin. Trevor growled, and it was almost attractive to you. "_Just you ____wait_until we get home, sweetheart…" He grumbled, turning his attention back to Michael, his hand still on his crotch. Seeing your tits wasn't exactly helping his blatant erection. Michael was trying not to look at it. This was all just really fucking awkward for him. Especially considering that _Trevor still hadn't pulled up his god damned pants yet._

Michael was almost used to this shit by now, though.

"So, do you have any clothes that I could change into? Anything will do. Even a shitty old shirt." You asked, feeling like you were asking too much of him already. I mean, you'd only just met the guy, and he'd already seen your tits. Greeeat fucking introduction.

Michael threw his hands up. "God, YES! PLEASE get some fucking clothes on! And, T, get your fuckin' dick outta here please." He walked out of the room for a moment to grab you some spare clothes. Trevor pulled his pants up, but cried out. "AW, BUT MIIIKEY! My cock always brings the life to the partyyy!"

The moment Michael left the room, Trevor was making a hulking walk towards you. Shit. You didn't know if you were ready for this. You knew that he was going to try something on you. You fucking asked for it for teasing him, too. God damn it. Trevor, predictably, grabbed you and pressed… No, ___slammed_you up against the nearest wall. The pictures hanging nearby shook slightly, one of them almost falling off of the wall. You had the breath knocked out of you. Trevor pressed himself against you, and you could feel your heart beat begin to accelerate in your chest. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His face was almost uncomfortably close to yours. You turned your face away from him, looking down the hallway rather than into his intimidating gaze. He grabbed your chin with his right hand and forced your face back to his. He grinned devilishly. "I need you to ___look at me_while I'm trying to fucking seduce you, understand? I need to watch your shitty little emotional walls _crumble." _He nearly growled, his breath against your lips.

And just then, someone walked into Michael's house through the front door. "Aye Mike, we here man!" A voice said, dangerously close by. You shoved Trevor off and dashed over to where Michael had last been seen. You didn't know who the fuck was about to see you nearly naked, so… It was best to just meet them while fully clothed. Your heart was still racing from that little encounter that you'd just had with Trevor. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but… ___Damn__._

Trevor was going to be a problem.

You met Michael in the hallway. "Those guys are here. Clothes would definitely be nice." You said, sounding slightly panicked.

"Yeah, yeah. Here, this'll do for now. Go get changed, and I'll see you out there." Michael handed you one of his old sweaters, and some of Tracey's jeans. They looked like they would fit you. You went into the nearest room and slipped the clothes on, figuring that you'd just grab your bra and shoes later before you left Michael's house.

You walked back out into the living room to see an African american male and a rather awkward looking Caucasian fellow with a cane standing in front of Michael and Trevor. "Ah, here's the little princess now! You just missed her tits, Lest. You could've had a front row show for once in your miserably lonely life!" Trevor exclaimed, patting you on the shoulder as you approached the boys.

You waved. "Hey, I'm _. Good to meet you guys."

Franklin nodded. "I'm Franklin. That fool over there is Lester."

Lester pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Ah, yes. Hello. You must be Trevor's new play thing. Anywho, it's time to divulge a proper plan here. We're still looking to rob that bank, right?"

Michael nodded. "Yup. What've you got for us, Lest?"

"Well, we can pull this off one of two ways. We can either go in loud and dumb, or tactful and smart. I already know that you morons are going to opt for the loud and stupid approach… I don't even know why I bothered presenting a choice. Barbarians."

"I think that a stealthy and tactful approach would probably be a better idea." You suggested, seeming like the only one in the room that wanted to go for that approach. "BOOOORING!" preached Trevor, with a melodramatic yawn.

You could already tell that this discussion was going to last for hours.


	4. The Heist

The heist's plan was coming together, finally.

The whole "planning" session had been riddled with Trevor and Michael screaming at each other over virtually everything. Mostly because Trevor seemed to thoroughly enjoy picking fights with Michael sometimes. You'd lost count of how many times you had to intervene and tell them both to shut the fuck up at this point.

Lester stood in front of a board (that he'd brought over) in Michael's living room. There were a number of pictures and notes tapped all over it's surface. "This heist is going to be a fairly easy one to pull off, if you aren't a completely incompetent idiot. The building's weak point is it's roof, as are most building's weak points. If we're going to go in loud and dumb as most of you have proposed for, not surprisingly, we're going to need to either crash through their front doors or crawl through their vents and crash into the building more directly that way. There are going to be a number of security cameras and other alarm systems. Don't worry, I'll be taking care of that for you. I'll hack their security measures properly to assure this all goes smoothly. Now, we have all of the pre-requisites for this thing… We've got two getaway cars, and we're armed to the teeth." Lester stopped for a moment to give his inhaler a good shake, taking a good long puff of it's contents before continuing. Surprisingly, everyone was quietly listening. Even Trevor.

"We're going to be splitting up into two teams here. Trevor and _, you'll be together. Michael and Franklin will be separately together as well. We've got two cars for this, so we should be fine. The cars are designed for heavier loads, so take all of the money that you can get."

You nodded. "Is that all? Are we ready to do this thing?"

"We are. We'll be leaving shortly. Michael will give the word, and I'll stay stationed here for all of the hacking procedures. The bank is only a couple of blocks away. Now, let's hope that you barbaric idiots don't fuck this up…" Lester said, hobbling away to the nearest couch, cane in hand.

Trevor's phone began to rang. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and his facial expression seemed to drastically change to one that you'd never seen him wear as he read the name on his phone. Trevor immediately took the call and started walking out to Michael's back yard. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. What was ___that_all about?

You hesitantly, but curiously, followed Trevor. You didn't go into the lavish back yard, you merely cracked the glass door leading into it slightly so that you could hear Trevor's end of the conversation for yourself.

Trevor's voice seemed to drop into a lower, softer tone. You'd never heard him speak like that before. He was always so… Rough, loud, abrasive… Anything ___but_soft.

"_Patricia_, hey… How are you? I miss you."

"Is that son of a bitch treating you right? I swear to god, if he isn't, I'm going to slit his throat and take a shit in it."

"Do you think that I could come by soon?"

"I don't ___care_if he doesn't want me over there! I want to see you!"

The more you listened, the more you didn't like what you were hearing. There was a knot in the pit of your stomach. You even had some anxiety fizzling within you, and… Jealousy? Oh, god. Great. What you were hearing was legitimately putting you in a bad mood, and you were finding yourself to be exceedingly grateful for the fact that you were about to go and murder people in cold blood for the sake of money. You needed to kill something to make you feel a little better.

You found yourself spacing out, lost in your own thoughts. You hadn't even noticed that Trevor had stopped talking. You jumped when Trevor walked through the glass door back into Michael's house. You looked at Trevor with a slightly guilty expression, because you knew damned well that you'd been caught eavesdropping.

Trevor tilted his head, his eyebrows pulling together into a scowl. "Were you… Were you fucking ___listening_to that? Do you think that it's okay to _i____nvade__ people's privacy?" _He almost sounded disgusted.

You shrank back. "I was… Curious. My curiosity got the better of me, okay? I've just… Never exactly heard or seen you react to a phone call like that before." You replied calmly and honestly, trying not to make the situation worse for yourself.

Trevor gave you a bit of a death stare for a couple of moments without saying a word. He held the intimidating glare, then simply broke it off and kept walking out to Michael's living room without another word. It was a glare that had read: "_Don't ever fucking do that again._"

Silence kills.

You felt a pang of guilt in your chest. God, you shouldn't have done that. That was probably the most immature thing that you could have done… Shit, that's what some jealous high school girlfriend would do. You mostly just despised the fact that you were even ___jealous_at all!

But… Part of you liked that he had the ability to be so soft and compassionate when he wanted to be.

You learned then that Trevor ___did_have a good side, you just needed to dig deep to find it.

And whoever this Patricia woman was… She had most certainly dug that deep.

~/~

You sat silently in the passenger seat of the car. Trevor was driving like a maniac, as usual, but you didn't really care too much. You were far too lost in your own thoughts to care. The silence between you and Trevor on the ride to the bank was slowly eating away at your sanity.

You didn't know what he was thinking. Part of you was convincing yourself that he most likely hated you now, and had lost all respect for you. If he had, you couldn't blame him.

You knew you had no right to be eavesdropping like that. There was no excuse or justification for that kind of crap. You were simply being _jealous, nosey, and insecure. _You wanted to apologize to him, but you… You'd save that for after the heist. We all had a job to do, and we needed to focus on it for now.

Mostly, however, you were seriously trying to figure out your own emotional workings right now. It was painfully apparent at this point that you _had_, despite your denial, developed some amount of feelings for Trevor. You'd really wanted to avoid that, but you'd unfortunately caught the disease known as "_feelings."_

You silently wondered how Trevor felt about you.

Trevor spun the wheel of the car to the right with a sharp turn, causing the both of you to jerk to the left. Both cars parked themselves in an alleyway alongside the bank. All four of you had been properly dressed to rob a bank. All four of you had been wearing heavy body armor, identity protective masks, and each car had been loaded with more than enough weapons for the heist. You were all going to pull this off today.

The four of you got out of the cars and immediately grabbed your favored two weapons out of the trunks of the cars. You had grabbed an assault rifle and a SMG. Trevor, predictably, had snagged a grenade launcher and a shotgun.

"Are you all ready to do this fucking thing?!" Trevor roared, confidently holding his grenade launcher with both arms. "Keep your fuckin' voice down, idiot!" Michael hissed, leading the group to towards the back of the bank. Lester had already managed to hack all of the security cameras both outside and inside the bank.

Trevor began barreling past Michael, seeing the entrance that they were aiming to go through (which was the back door of the bank), and proceeded to kick both back doors in. "HOLA, AMIGOS! WE'RE HERE TO BLOW YOU TO TINY LITTLE BITS AND TAKE ALL OF YOUR MONEY TO BUY DRUGS WITH!" Trevor yelled, wasting no time in shooting about three grenades into the bank building. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! The building was already starting to catch fire, and only Trevor had set foot in it. Typical.

Michael shook his head and sighed. "Look who's gotta be the star of the fuckin' show, as usual." You, Michael, and Franklin all joined Trevor inside of the bank. You began firing off your assault rifle, essentially mowing down any innocent bystander within the bank. The bank employees behind the counters and already sounded the alarms. The alarms blared in your ears, and only gave you that much more of an adrenaline rush.

You ran to the door leading to the back of the bank, behind the counters. "THIS WAY! MOVE!" You shouted, kicking the door in and stampeding inside to pursue the safe. Michael and Franklin followed you inside, but Trevor had decided to cover the three of you since he had the heavier weapons. Cops poured into the bank left and right, showering bullets towards mainly Trevor. Trevor had found a good vantage point, and was firing grenades at each entry point of the bank until a fucking massive hole had been blasted through each entrance. These cops didn't stand a chance against him.

Feeling confident that Trevor would be able to handle himself, you felt comfortable with going to the safe with Michael and Franklin and leaving him alone out there. The three of you handled the cops on your way to the safe like professionals. Michael had been thoroughly surprised by how well you were working with the three of them. So far, none of you had sustained any serious injuries.

After fighting through what seemed like an army of authorities, the three of you had finally found the safe. Behind you, what seemed like countless bodies laid in a bloody trail all the way back out to the bank. You felt exceedingly proud of the good work you were doing.

As Michael tried to break into the safe, he turned his head to you. "You know, kid, you're pretty fuckin' good. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you to be so smooth sailing. You're welcome to come with us on jobs any time. With or without and Rainbows out there."

You smirked. "Thanks, buddy."

It had actually taken quite a while for the three of you to figure out the safe. Franklin covered you and Michael while you cracked the safe open. "Aye man, these muthafuckas is gettin' ruthless over here! Hurry the fuck up!" Franklin said, starting to run out of ammunition at this point.

Finally, the safe opened. "That would have been a hell of a lot easier if T had decided to stick with us back here. We could have just blasted the fuckin' thing open." Michael said with a sigh, walking into the safe. He started stuffing his duffle bag full of cash. You did the same, filling your bag until it could barely zip shut anymore.

Trevor ran into the safe at the last minute, absolutely covered in the blood of innocent people. As usual. You eyed him, "Having fun, I see?" He looked at you with that same look that he'd given you back at Michael's house, said nothing, and proceeded to stuff his bag full of cash. Ouch… Ignored.

After the four of you had grabbed as much cash as you could carry, you made a mad dash to the getaway cars that you'd stashed nearby. Luckily, Lester had hired someone to park them in the back of the bank just in the right time for the four of you. The boys had all gotten into the cars. You were the last one in.

Just as you were about to sit in the passenger seat, you felt someone harshly grab you by the shoulder and throw you down on the concrete ground with a violent slam. Michael and Franklin had driven off already, and… so had Trevor. ___What?_

You felt a familiar sting of betrayal begin to boil up within you.

They had l_eft you to die._

You could hear the screeching sirens of cop cars swarming after the three boys. Good. You found yourself hoping that they would get caught after the shit that they had just pulled on you.

Five heavily armored police officers loomed over you, pointing their assault riffles in your face. "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST! GET UP, GET UP NOW!" One of them roared, kicking you on your side with a steel toed boot hard enough to break a fucking rib. ___CRACK__._

Oh, god. They ___had_broken a rib.

You wasted no time in standing up and defending yourself. The moment you stood up, the five men had their hands all over you to restrain you and put you into custody. All you could feel was… Boiling, ___seething_rage. You were beginning to realize that ___nobody _could be trusted, and that ___everyone_was going to betray you at some point. You were painfully reminded of the very reason why you were here in Los Santos to begin with.

_Betrayal…_

And time was fucking repeating itself.

You let out a loud, almost primal roar. You viciously fought against the hold of the five men with all of your strength, kicking and screaming violently. You'd managed to kick the one with a hold on your arms squarely in the balls, which had caused him to double over. That was your window. ___That was your chance__._

You quickly grabbed his weapon off of him and released a spray of bullets into his skull, killing him instantly. You turned the gun on the rest of the armored officers and opened fire, spraying all of them with lethal bullets. Because of their armor, they were able to fight back. They began opening fire on you as well. Your armor prevented much of the bullets from penetrating you, but you felt at least three bullets dig into your legs. Without your control, your legs gave out beneath you from the bullet wounds, and you collapsed to your knees. It hurt _so fucking badly_, but you needed to survive. You needed to get through this.

On your knees, you continued spraying them all with bullets until they were fucking dead. Most of the authorities had left the scene to pursue the boys.

You sat there, on your knees, in the middle of five bodies. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the bodies beginning to pool with blood around you, soaking your legs. You tried to regain your footing, but it was difficult. Lucky for you, you hadn't been shot anywhere in your legs that would render walking impossible for you.

You began making slowly shuffling over to the nearest parked car, intending to steal it and drive off to Michael's house with it. You fully intended on walking into Michael's house and killing every last one of those disgusting pieces of shits with your bare hands.

You weren't thinking clearly. Your mind was clouded with rage and the emotional trauma of a partially healed wound over your heart being ripped back open again to bleed out.

You walked up to a grey SUV and elbowed it's window out. Then, the car alarm sounded off. Fabulous. So much for a quiet escape. Regardless, you grabbed your duffle bag of money off of one of the deceased guards and started the SUV up through hot wiring it. Your hands were covered in blood and shaking violently, so it took a couple of tries.

The bank behind you was now heavily in flames. Fire men had arrived to put out the fire. You reversed the SUV and slammed down on the acceleration, praying to whatever god there may or may not be that you'd make a clean getaway from the scene.

~/~

You kicked Michael's front doors open with a bloody boot. His door slammed open hard enough that it flew back and hit the other side of the wall, and cracked the stained glass within it's frame. You stormed through his house, leaving bloody foot prints as you went, and found the three boys all sitting in Michael's living room. They were watching the news, which was reporting our heist, and cheering over their success. They had glasses of whiskey in their hands, and they were clinking them together. "Another job well fucking done, ladies!" Trevor boomed, slugging down his whiskey in one go.

You stood in the door way leading in to the living room, barely even being able to stand. You chest rose and fell rapidly with the adrenaline of survival still pumping through your veins.

"You fucking pieces of shit ___LEFT ME TO DIE__!_" You roared viciously, holding yourself up on the wall while your legs continued to bleed.

The three of them looked over, and their eyes widened with shock to see that you had survived an escape out of there by yourself. Trevor was the first to approach you. "You ___survived__?_ Holy shit, sugar tits! Bravo!" He said, giving you his shoulder for support. You denied it. You shoved Trevor away and scowled, your eyes filled with raw hatred.

"_**FUCK YOU! **__Don't FUCKING TOUCH ME! _I thought that I could TRUST you pieces of shit, and you fucking _**LEFT ME TO **_**_DIE_****! **You didn't even TRY to save me! Instead here you all are, drinking your fucking whiskey, and not even giving MY survival a second though! I thought that we were a fucking team here!" You were absolutely hysterical with rage.

You felt like sobbing your eyes out, but you wouldn't show that to them.

Michael held his hands up. "Woah, woah! Fuckin' easy there! Look, kid, you've gotta understand… We ___couldn't_save you. If we had stopped to try and save your ass, we would have _all _been arrested. We didn't have time to save you. We wanted to, but we couldn't. There was nothing we could do. And T here convinced us that you could handle yourself out there."

You felt your rage begin to slowly simmer down, but you weren't satisfied quite yet. "_Apparently, _things work fucking differently in Los Santos, then. Because in ___Sal Franzo__, _crews fucking stuck together. What happened here today is probably the single most selfish fucking thing that I've ever seen in my life. Crews are supposed to come out of jobs _together_, or not come out at all. Fuck all of you. I ___knew_that I was nothing but an expendable fucking tool to all of you. ___Especially _you." You hissed, pointing at Trevor.

You started to limp away. "I have my cash. I don't need to be here anymore. I refuse to run with a crew that's willing to ___sacrifice_their own for the sake of successfully pulling off a heist."

Michael was surprised to see that Trevor hadn't blown up on you by now. Instead, he was abnormally silent. He had his eyes glued to the ground, and his body was tense. When Trevor saw you trying to limp away, he grabbed you by the arm and tugged you back. "Look, I understand that you're fucking pissed off. But if you walk out of here with three gun shot wounds in your legs, you're going to bleed out and die somewhere. Don't be a fucking idiot, princess."

You glared at him. You knew he was right, but you didn't want his help.

Suddenly, Franklin spoke up. "Look man, we had to do what we had to do. You can't tell me that you wouldn't have left some poor muthafucka behind that you barely knew if it meant___you_and the rest of yo homie's survival , am I right? It's called survival of the fuckin' fittest, and you just proved yo self to be of the fittest."

You were starting to understand.

You looked at Trevor. "And what about ___you__, _huh? I'm honestly not even surprised that you left me to die. I expected your betrayal. I ___know_you don't give a shit about me."

Trevor's face twisted into an angry scowl. "How fucking ___dare_you, princess. I ___wanted _to go back and save you, you know that? But ___these _pricks stopped me. I'm a loyal friend, sweet cheeks, and I ___hated_leaving you behind. But I had a little fucking faith in your abilities. And, well, it looks like my faith was well placed. You're a certified bad ass. Now, give Uncle T a hug so that we can get the fuck over this."

He opened his arms for a hug, but you just glared at him. "Fuck off."

You heard what they were all telling you. And… Part of you agreed. Part of you understood.

But the other part of you was holding a grudge, and it would take quite a while for you to trust any of them again.

You started to limp towards the front door, but collapsed to the floor. Your vision was growing more and more blurry by the second, and you could feel yourself slipping away…

Until you fell unconscious from blood loss.


	5. You've Been Found

You could hear the soft hum of something… Maybe a TV? A radio? Someone talking?

You could smell something… Horrible. It smelled like alcohol and piss.

You groaned and shifted, slowly regaining consciousness. As you shifted to turn on your side, you felt an unbearably sharp pain pulse throughout your body. You winced and retracted back to laying flat on your back. You opened your eyes to see the tan, beat up ceiling of Trevor's trailer. You slowly tried to sit up to figure out where you were entirely, but the pain in your torso persisted. It must have been the broken rib.

You rubbed your eyes and looked around you to discover that you'd been laying on Trevor's bed, in the bedroom of his trailer. His sheets were probably the most stained sheets that you'd ever seen in your life. There were cigarette butts laying all over the place on the bed, but you swore that you'd never seen Trevor smoke a single cigarette. You looked down at your now bare legs to discover that they'd been wrapped in bandages where your gunshot wounds had been.

Had Trevor treated and dressed your gunshot wounds while you were knocked out?

Trevor was slumped on the floor next to you, his back against the wall. It looked like he'd fallen asleep there, probably waiting for you to wake up. Either that, or he passed out piss faced drunk. Who knows. That guy was a fucking pandora's box of mysteries.

Why was he being so nice to you?

If this was an attempt to regain your trust after leaving you to die yesterday, it wasn't going to work.

"Hey." You croaked out to him, grabbing a discarded beer bottle from the night stand next to the bed and chucking it softly at him. Trevor jumped and rose to his feet rather abruptly, the same beer bottle in his hand, ready to attack someone with it. He looked around, sighed, and dropped the beer bottle to the floor. He turned around to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "If you want me to beat the shit out of you, waking me up by throwing shit at me is a sure fire way to accomplish that, sweet heart."

You chuckled. "Someone's got a bad case of PTSD, it seems. Did you, uh, do this?" You asked, motioning to your legs. He shrugged, "Of course I did. The fuck did you expect me to do? Leave you to bleed out all over my damned trailer? I was tempted to just chop your legs off and eat them, buuut _t____hen_I decided that I'd much rather have those legs wrapped around my w-"

"_EfuckingNOUGH." _You cut him off, knowing exactly where that was going. You sat up further with a groan, now sitting on the edge of the bed. Your eyes were at the trailer's filthy floor. "Well… Thanks, I guess. You didn't have to do that."

"Anytime, princess. But, honestly, it's kind of a pain in the ass to mop up all of that blood off of the floor. Such a waste of good, human blood." You raised an eyebrow. "Trev, you kind of concern me sometimes…" You chuckled lightly.

He scoffed. "And ___that's_when you know you're getting to know me. When I ___concern_you. But, hey, you know what ___concerns_me? The fact that you probably want to fucking rip my dick off and shove it down my throat still after what happened with the heist."

You tilted your head a bit. "Why are you even bothered by that? I figured that you'd forgotten about that by now. My feelings shouldn't matter to you in the slightest."

"Look, kid. You may not be the ___love of my life_or some special fucking priority, but that doesn't mean that I don't give two butt fucking shits about serious situations like that. I need you to ___understand__ t_hat what happened back there wasn't my choice. I didn't choose to leave you to fend for yourself. Shit just happens."

A thought occurred to you, then. ___Patricia__. _You wanted to ask him about her, but you knew damned well that it wasn't your business. It wasn't your place to ask. While you were in thought about that, there was a bit of a silence between you and Trevor. He broke it. "You're free to go now."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're free to go. You've more than re-payed me. Go and frolic off into the sunset with all of that cash that you just made from the heist, doll."

You were a little dumbfounded. He said it so nonchalantly, like it was merely another business deal that had come to an end. You were… Honestly almost offended by that. But at the same time, what were you expecting? You weren't expecting to stay with him for very long anyway.

But you ___wanted_to stay. You were starting to like it here. Well, despite… What had happened yesterday. You were still going to need some time to properly get over that whole situation.

You'd been sitting there silently for a couple of moments, lost in your own thoughts.

"Why do you always do that?" Trevor asked, sounding almost annoyed.

"Do what?"

"Space out like that. You ___always_fucking do it."

"I'm just _thinking_, Trevor. Jesus."

"Well… What are you thinking about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. He seemed genuinely curious.

You sighed. "It's complicated. I always have a boat load of shit swirling around in this head of mine. I'm sure you can sort of relate."

"Oh, I can. But some answers would be nice, sweet cheeks. I'm trying to figure something out here."

You gave him a look. "_Figure something out_? That sounds promising. Okay, well… I suppose I'll indulge you."

He sarcastically moaned. "Mmmm, baby… _I____ndulge me__."_

He was trying to be funny, but you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. Ugh, how shameless… You'd actually found the way that he'd said that attractive. You cleared your throat. "I don't really want to leave, honestly. You've sort of grown on me, in a really fucking weird way."

He snorted. "Yeeeaaah, I tend to do that to people. I grow on 'em. Like a fucking weed. Ya hate me, but you'll keep me around because you're too lazy to get rid of me. Well, that and… I just keep coming back. Heh."

"Seriously, Trevor. I wouldn't mind staying here if you'll have me. I'm going to just try to pretend that all of that shit with the heist never happened. But, I'm curious about something…"

Oh, god. The words had just fallen out of your mouth before you could stop them. You continued, "… Who's Patricia? It's okay if you don't feel like talking about it, I'm just curious."

Trevor scowled. "Yeah, you're a little ___too__ f_ucking curious. _Eavesdropping_? Really? That was probably the stupidest shit that I've ever seen you do. You're not my fuckin' girlfriend, _. It shouldn't fucking ___matter__ t_o you."

You sighed, and shrugged. He had a pretty valid point. "Yeah, you're right… I suppose. I shouldn't have asked. I just wanted to get to know you a little better, really. I still don't know anything about you."

"And yet you want to ___live_with me. That's pretty fuckin' stupid of you, if you ask me." He popped open a beer and took a gulp of it. Trevor, truthfully, had grown a bit of a soft spot for this woman. He would never blatantly state that to her, but he knew why she was so curious about Patricia. He wasn't an idiot. He was just waiting for her to say it at this point. Or, maybe… He'd get her to say it right now.

"Why do you want to know about Patricia, huh? ___Why_does that specifically peak your interest? Come on, babe,___indulge me__._"

You didn't want to say. You were honestly slightly ashamed that you'd grown jealous over something so petty. You were ashamed that you'd developed a shitty little crush on the man in front of you, too. You didn't want to admit any of it to yourself. You were trying to convince yourself that you weren't feeling any of that crap.

To you, feelings were a vulnerability. A weakness. You avoided romantic feelings like this at all costs.

"I already told you, Trev, I was just curious. There's nothing special to it." You stood up slowly, cringing from the pain within both of your legs, and shuffled into the front room of the trailer. You cleared a space for yourself and sat up on the counter, letting your legs dangle off of the edge. Trevor followed you in, standing a couple of feet in front of you.

"I'm sorry, princess, but I really don't fucking believe that. Do you take me for an idiot or something? Because last time I checked, _simple curiosity _doesn't warrant someone to fucking go out of their way to eavesdrop like you did." Something in Trevor liked watching you squirm under his confrontations.

You avoided eye contact with him. "Whatever you're trying to get out of me, Trevor… It's not going to happen. Just stop, please. You're pissing me off."

He took a step towards you. "Oh, am I? _Really_? Well, that's fanfuckingtastic! Do you ___really_wanna know who Patricia is to me? Huh? Well, let me sum it up for you…" He took another gulp of his beer. "She's some fifty seven year old house wife that I kind of sort of have a massive thing for. There, are you ___happy_now?"

You kept your eyes on the floor. "I mean, I suppose. It isn't that big of a deal." But it was. To you, at least. You would never allow him to know that, though.

You'd been spacing out again. Trevor took advantage of the opportunity presented before him, and moved closer to you. He was now standing directly in front of you, eyeing you down. "Having a lovely lady like yourself staying with me ___would _have it's benefits…" He said, leaning closer to you.

You still tried to avoid eye contact. You scooted away, but he only proceeded to lean forward more. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm not some fucking prostitute for you to fuck whenever you want, asshole. If anything, having a woman living with you would benefit you by keeping your crazy ass in line." You were trying to keep your cool. But he was only leaning closer, and closer…

Trevor's hand slid up the side of your right thigh slowly as his face closed in on yours. He was careful, trying to avoid your wounds. He grabbed your face with his other hand and made you look him in the eyes. You heart beat accelerated. Anxiety started balling up inside of you. His touch on your thigh sent electric shivers up your spine.

"You like that, don't you?" Trevor almost growled, his voice having a raspy undertone to it within his throat. Oh, this was bad. This was ___very__ b_ad. You didn't even know what to say. You couldn't deny it, but everything in you wanted to push him away. You were so used to sheltering yourself from any sort of lust or romantic involvement that all of this… It was taking you out of your comfort zone.

"I… What are you doing, Trevor?" Your voice was starting to shake.

Trevor knew what was going on with you. He wouldn't admit it to you, but this was his way of trying to help you. In his older age, he'd grown to have his fair share of life experience. Enough to know that… With the way you were acting, it was clear to him that you simply sheltered yourself normally from encounters like this.

And, hey, he got some action out of it too. Win win, eh?

He planted his rough, chapped lips on yours and let his other hand slide up your left thigh. Both of his hands met on either side of your waist, his hold firm on you. He could feel your uneven breath on his lips. You'd hardly been kissing him back.

Let go.

Just _let go._

You were trying to push yourself… You needed to get over this emotional wall. Each touch from this man's hands drove you insane physically, but…

Trevor's lips pressed against yours with more pressure, his hands leaving your waist to slide back down to your legs. He carefully lifted your legs up to wrap around his waist, almost holding your hand through the whole encounter.

It was almost sweet of him.

Instinctively, your legs tightened around his waist and pulled him in closer to you. You could feel yourself getting lost in the moment. Trevor's hands traveled to your bum, giving it a slight squeeze while he continued to kiss you. His tongue made it's way into your mouth, and you could feel your tongue dancing with his own. You were getting into the groove of this now. You could feel yourself getting hotter all over.

Suddenly, Trevor picked you up off of the counter by your bum and walked you back into the bedroom. He plopped you down on his bed and wasted no time in looming over you dominantly, his broad shoulders and masculine physique being incredibly attractive to you. He bent down to you and started biting and sucking on the tender flesh of your neck. You could feel him beginning to grind against you over your clothes, and you could feel yourself growing hotter. You have out short breaths occasionally, closing your eyes and losing yourself in him.

Then, there was a knock at the trailer door.

The both of you completely ignored it. You both couldn't give a shit less about who in the unholy fuck was trying to cock block this little encounter. Trevor's hand slid to the lining of your pants, rather skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans. He'd probably done it thousands of times before.

He pulled down your jeans enough for him to slide his hand within, his hand rubbing your sex through your underwear. You let out a faint gasp and jumped, surprised by the amount of pleasure that you'd felt from such a small action. "Look at you, princess… All turned on and waiting for me to bang you. How precious." He grumbled, a sly grin on his face.

BANG BANG BANG!

Whoever the fuck was at the trailer door wasn't letting up. Trevor sat up, "I'm gonna shoot the fucking face off of whoever the fuck that is." He growled, leaving you on his bed to go and answer the door. You pulled up your pants, just in case, and sat back up on the bed.

Trevor opened the door to see two men in black suits. Well, that couldn't be good. "What the fuck do ___you_want?" Trevor snidely said, a scowl on his face. He was getting ready to grab his shotgun. He knew these guys were going to end up being trouble.

"Trevor Philips? We're associated with the SFPD. The Sal Franzo Police Department. We have reason to believe that you're sheltering a convicted felon on the run from the SFPD, and we'll be needing to search your home."

"Like FUCK you will!" Trevor roared, getting his shotgun from beside the door and blasting at the two men in front of him without a second thought. He'd shot the both of them in the chest, watching them collapse on his porch. You jumped at the sudden sound of gun shots, but heard everything the men had said. Fuck.

FUCK!

They'd TRACKED you!

You got up and stood next to Trevor, eyeing the dying men in black suits on his porch. "Trevor… They fucking _t____racked_me down." You muttered, grabbing the shotgun from Trevor's arms and beating both of the men's skulls in with the handle of the gun. "FUCKING CUNTS!" WHACK! "FUCKING PIGS!" WHACK! "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" WHACK!

Their heads had, in the end, been reduced to a pulpy mess.

Trevor sighed. "You're cleanin' that shit up, missy. Actually, no. Save the arms and the legs. I need those."

You turned to him with a slightly crazed look in your eyes. "Trevor, god, I can't stay here now! They're going to fucking find me!"

Trevor smirked. "Princess… If you're living with _me, _the badass Canadian, they won't lay a fucking finger on you. You're fine here. There's even a place in Los Santos that we could stay in, if you want."

"You have a house out there?"

"No, Wade's cousin does. If we stay over there for a while, they'll probably leave you alone for a bit. You're safe either way, sugar tits. Trust me."

You believed him. You almost hated to admit it, but you felt exceedingly safe with him. You went over to him and wrapped your arms around him. "Just… Don't let those fuckers take me. If they do, I'll either kill myself or die fighting my way out."

It took him a couple of moments to hug you back. He sighed and hugged you back, trying to comfort you in his own way. "I'd rather you not die, sweet cheeks. Because then, I'd have no one to bang." He joked, feeling a much deserved kick to his leg after that one. He wanted to protect you. "Oh, and by the way, you're hot when you're beating people's head in with my shotgun."

He wouldn't let those fuckers have you.

"Alright, pack your shit up, darlin'. We're heading back to Los Santos."


	6. The Common Misunderstandings

A fine vixen of a woman was sitting confidently on a beaten sofa within the depths of her apartment in Los Santos. She had her long, slender legs crossed, and was leaned back against the couch. She had her arms outstretched along the edge of the sofa.

The vixen had jet black hair that tumbled down to her breasts in luscious curls, her layered hair being parted on the further right side of her head, leaving it to tumble more to one side with side swept bangs. Her complexion was almost porcelain pale, and her plump lips had been colored with a deep, red lipstick. Her chocolate brown eyes had been decorated with winged eyeliner, and copious amounts of mascara. Her eyebrows were in a sharp arch, and the look on her face seemed to be in a permanently bitchy scowl.

"Kasha, we couldn't get the girl. It looks like she's staying with someone. Some guy. Out in Sandy Shores. The cop disguises didn't work." Another female said, walking into the room with Kasha to lay down the bad news on her.

Kasha glared at her crew mate. "Can't you fuckers do _anything _right? I need that bitch dead! God, do I have to do all of this myself? I may as well, at this point." The tone of her voice had been laced with a condescending demeanor. Kasha rose to her feet, dressed in a form fitting sweater dress and some leggings, and began to walk out of her apartment.

"Come on, Crystal. I'm just going to track her down myself… And I'm going to need some company so I don't get bored. Well, actually, you might just make me _more _bored, but it's better than nothing." As Kasha walked out of her apartment, her car keys in her hand, she mumbled to herself: "Looks like it's time to pay an old friend a visit…"

~/~

"T-Trevor?! What're you doin' here?! Get outta here, and go ruin someone else's home furnishings!" Floyd yelled, trying to stop the roughly 45 year old lunatic of a man from entering him and Debra's home. The last time Trevor had been here, the entire apartment had gone to shit. And, thanks to Wade, the term "gone to shit" had become _very _literal.

Trevor stomped past Floyd, shoving him against the wall as he passed. You followed behind Trevor, looking at Floyd almost apologetically. "Uh, nice to meet you, I suppose." You awkwardly introduced yourself, patting Floyd on the shoulder. Trevor walked into the front room, holding his arms out. He turned his attention to you, "Princess, _this _is our shitty little place in Los Santos! _Thanks, _Floyd, for being so fucking hospitable! GO GET ME A FUCKING DRINK, YOU PRICK!" Trevor roared, furiously pointing towards the kitchen. Trevor plopped down on one of the two couches in the rather tidy living room, groaning and stretching out.

Floyd rushed over in a panic to get Trevor a drink. You sat next to Trevor on the couch, your posture slightly awkward, mostly because you didn't exactly _know _the situation here… Trevor seemed more like a forced guest here. So did you. You tried to be nice, though. You almost felt a little bad for Floyd, but you were honestly getting a kick out of how much of a pussy he was.

Floyd walked over with a glass of water and handed it to Trevor. Trevor looked at the glass for only a second before his face twisted into a scowl. Trevor's hand flew and slapped the glass out of Floyd's hand, sending it flying across the room and shattering against the wall. "GET ME SOME FUCKIN' _WHISKEY_, YOU COCKSUCKER! Now we're _definitely _NOT spooning tonight!"

You couldn't really restrain a giggle at this point. You chuckled to yourself, watching the scene displayed in front of you. Floyd frantically ran and got Trevor some whiskey instead, running back over to the couch and handing it to the lunatic of a man. "H-Here. Now, don't go askin' for anything else!" Floyd said, his voice slightly shaken.

Trevor gulped the whiskey down in one swig, and suddenly rose to his feet. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off, then took off his filthy white t-shirt and tossed both articles of clothing somewhere on the floor. Left in his his underwear and shoes, Trevor turned to Floyd. Floyd looked petrified. "N-NO! I do _not _want to be seein' your gosh darned johnny again, Trevor! Don't you go takin' that thing out again!"

You raised an eyebrow. You had _no idea _what Floyd was talking about, but… You could take a fair guess. And Trevor showing his dick off to everyone wouldn't surprise you in the least, honestly. "Oh, is _that _what this is about? You want me to take out my dick again, huh? Is _that _what you're saying?" Trevor said, reaching for his underwear. Floyd frantically waved his hands in front of him. "God, NO! NO!"

Finally, you spoke up. "Do it, Trev! And make sure you do a little spin!" You cackled, crossing your legs on the couch. This was better than reality TV. Suddenly, the front door opened, and Wade stepped through. Predictably, he'd bought some ice cream for himself. "Oh, hey Trevor! Hey nice lady!" Wade excitedly exclaimed, not seeming to notice the fact that Trevor was about to flash Floyd… Again.

Wade plopped down next to you on the couch. "Y'know, I do like me some of that chocolate ice cream. It's rea-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP, WADE! I'M TRYING TO SHOW MY DICK TO YOUR COUSIN, AND I NEED TO CONCENTRATE!" Trevor boomed, throwing down his underwear to his ankles without an ounce of hesitation.

Floyd had reacted as if he'd seen the anti-christ itself. His hands jolted up to his face and he'd backed up into the kitchen. "CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" He yelled, shielding himself from the unholiness that was Trevor's genitalia. Wade didn't seem phased whatsoever. Trevor walked towards Floyd with open arms, seeming to be thoroughly this. He got some sort of sick satisfaction out of this, but you still weren't quite sure what exactly…

"C'MON, FLOYD! GIVE UNCLE T A BIG 'OL HUG!" Trevor yelled, closing in on Floyd. Before Floyd had the opportunity to escape Trevor's clutches, he'd found himself wrapped up in a tight, naked Trevor hug. Floyd squirmed, but all Trevor said was a hushed, "Shhhh, shhhh…"

Jesus christ, you dug this man more and more every day.

There was never a dull moment with Trevor.

~/~

Three days had passed.

You woke up in Floyd's bed next to Trevor, who had decided to sleep completely naked for some reason. Every since that little "encounter" that the two of you had had a couple of days ago back in his trailer in Sandy Shores, you hadn't really been intimate. Part of you didn't like that. You wanted more, and he had sort of blue ballsed you. The two of you always slept in the same bed, but you had never exactly thoroughly _talked _about what the two of you were to each other.

You didn't mind that at first. You figured that Trevor may have just needed some time to sort shit out in that fucked up little head of his, but it had been too long. You were starting to want some closure, because you were beginning to feel like some kind of toy to him. You hated the whole "friends with benefits" thing, and would much rather have someone you had a legitimate relationship and connection with instead. You didn't take intimacy as lightly as Trevor seemed to.

Trevor groaned and mumbled in his sleep, turning over to face you, still unconscious. Even when Trevor slept, his face was in that familiar scowl. His hand loosely lifted to hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could tell that he definitely wasn't completely conscious, but you still thought that that was pretty adorable. You took comfort in the close proximity, and nuzzled yourself up to him and shut your eyes. It was shameless, but he would never know how much of a sucker you were for this kind of cutesy cuddling shit.

"I'm awake, sweet cheeks." He lightly grumbled, a smirk on his face.

"… Damn it." You hissed, chuckling into his chest. "I was hoping that you wouldn't discover my dirty little secret."

To your surprise, he pulled you a bit closer. "I have my own dirty little secrets too, sugar tits. Except _mine _involve cannibalistic cults and various brutal murders."

You smirked. "… You _like _cuddling, don't you? I fucking knew it, you big softy!" You laughed, pushing yourself away from him just enough to make eye contact with him.

He scoffed. "Oh, great. Juuust great… You've discovered my one, true _lethal _weakness!" He proclaimed melodramatically, outstretching an arm to the open air. Suddenly, that arm fell, and landed back on your waist. He pulled you back to him. "Now shut up and cuddle with me, you god damned harlot."

You smiled into his chest, closing your eyes. You felt like a giddy little high schooler with the worst crush known to man kind, but you were growing to accept it a bit more now. But, there was still one piece of the puzzle missing…

"Trev, I need some answers."

Trevor sighed dramatically and turned away from you, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Ughhh, god, _here _we go… You're ruining the absurdly fluffy cuddle time, princess."

"No, seriously. Somethings been bothering me, and I wanted to get it off of my chest."

"Well… Spill it. Uncle T's all ears."

"I'm still not entirely sure how you feel about me, Trev. It's kind of bothering me. And with this other woman, Patricia, I'm not sure if I'm just some play thing for you or not. I think that I deserve a little bit of closure here." You weren't trying to be confrontational. Your tone was more genuine.

Trevor was silent for a moment, seeming to be collecting his thoughts, then tried to answer you as rationally as he could. "Look, kid, there's a reason why I haven't fucked your brains out multiple times by now. I'm old, babe, I've been around. How you were acting back in the trailer, how you were responding to all of that crap… It was pretty fucking apparent to me that you're not ready for all of that crap with me. Not yet, anyway. I'm not an idiot, I notice shit like that."

You could honestly say that you were sufficiently surprised. "… Honestly, Trev, I think I may have underestimated you a little bit. I wasn't expecting you to pick up on that at all. I've always taken you for more of a, uh…"

"Lusty, horny, psychotic old man that's always aiming to get some penetration in his miserable little crazed life? Yeah, you're right. That's it. Except, I have a little thing called _respect _and _intelligence. _My mother taught me a little fuckin' better than that."

Trevor talked about his mother fairly often. It was pretty clear to you that he held his mother up on some kind of pedestal, but you never knew why. "Well well, … You've earned some respect from me. You had me totally fooled into thinking that you were some shitty, horny old man with no respect for women whatsoever." You joked, chuckling to yourself.

He smiled. And, honestly, that was probably the first time that you had ever seen him genuinely smile. It was a bit of a sad smile, but you liked it. You continued. "Anyway, Trev, you didn't exactly answer my question."

He sat up with an exasperated sigh. "All of this emotional crap is giving me a headache, princess. I need some whiskey." He started to stand up to leave the room, but you grabbed him and pulled him back down. Now, you were being slightly confrontational.

"Stop _avoiding _this crap, Trevor. Seriously. It's starting to piss me off. Just… Do me a favor, and give me some fucking closure, okay?"

He turned to face you, slight irritation in his eyes from being forced into a situation. Being forced into _anything _never sat well with Trevor. It usually brought out the worst in him. "You want some _closure_? Alright, let me shove it down your fucking throat for you. What do you want me to say, huh? That I have _feelings _for you? Do you want me to get down on one knee and profess my undying fucking love for you? Is that what you want? Oh, and let me fucking guess, you want me to _reassure _your petty fucking insecurities and tell you how much better you are than Patricia? I've got some fucking news for you, princess…" He got close to your face. "_I'm not going to fucking say any of it."_

And with that, Trevor took his leave. As he left the room, you could hear Floyd yelling at Trevor to "put some gosh darned clothes on."

You, however, had been left alone on the bed. You simply stared at the sheets beneath you, spacing out with your own swirling thoughts. You were hurt. Hurt beyond belief. You couldn't believe how much of an asshole he'd been. But, all the same… You probably shouldn't have forced him into that.

Trevor wasn't someone that enjoyed talking about his "feelings" like you did. You liked to have everything out on the table. Him? Not so much. You knew that you probably shouldn't have forced him into that, but… Could you really blame yourself? You needed _something _to go off of.

But maybe you were just being selfish.

~/~

"This is the place. The residence of a, uh… "Michael De Santa." Should we just walk up to the door? If the girl is inside, what should our next move be?" Crystal asked Kasha, while Kasha stared intently at the De Santa's lavish residence. "If she's in there, I'll go in there and kill her myself." Kasha paused, a wide grin spreading on her pale face. "Killing _ will be the last loose end to tie. I ran Sal Franzo with her, and now I'm going to run Los Santos with no competition. I can't have her finding out that I'm still alive and free, which she eventually will, because she'll become serious competition for my… Industry. Hah, imagine the look on her face when she sees me again…"

Crystal smirked and added, "A ghost from her past. And not only that, but the one person that ran her out of Sal Franzo…"

Kasha made eye contact with Crystal. "_The snitch._"

Kasha then opened her car door and exited, along with Crystal. The two women walked into the De Santa's driveway, their gate opening for them. Kasha strode up to the porch, and rang the doorbell. Shortly after, an older male in his 40's answered with a cigar in his right hand. "Can I help you lovely little ladies with something?"

Kasha smiled rather fakely. "Ah, yes. Are you Michael De Santa?"

"The one and only, babe."

"Great! We're looking for a woman by the name of _ _, and we have reason to believe that she's associated with you. Have any idea where we could find her?"

Michael literally couldn't contain his laughter. He laughed in Kasha's face, taking a puff out of his cigar. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right? What, do you think I'm stupid? Kid, I know what you're doin'. You're not gettin' any information from me about her. Now, how 'bout you get off of my fuckin' property, and try doing something a little more _valuable _with your life than stalkin' people."

Kasha scowled, dropping the act almost immediately. "There's money in it for you, buddy. If you tell me what I need to know about her, I'll make it worth your while."

Michael laughed a little harder and held his arms out. "Does it fuckin' _look _like I need money to you? It's been real fun, sweet heart, but I've got better things to do than talk to your sorry ass. If I see you on my fuckin' property again, I'm getting my shotgun." And with that, Michael shut his door.

"Fuck! We're going to need to find another way…" Kasha hissed, walking away. As she walked away, Michael opened the door and added in some parting words. "Oh and by the way, ladies, you fuckin' suck at what you do!"

"Fuck you, asshole!" Kasha yelled, scowling as she returned to her car.

Finding her old friend was going to be far more difficult than she had originally anticipated.

~/~

It had been a couple of hours now. The sun was setting in Los Santos, and Trevor had left quite a while ago to take care of something. Meanwhile, you had been left alone to go insane with your own wandering thoughts. Mostly, you just felt guilty. You wanted to apologize to Trevor for being such a selfish prick, and forcing him into something that he clearly didn't want to get into just yet.

Coincidentally, Trevor came busting through Floyd's front door with his phone to his ear. He didn't look happy. "And what in the fuck did these women want with her?" His tone of voice sounded hasty. Pissed off.

You curiously watched him, crossing your arms. "Well, fucking figure it out, Townley!" Trevor hung up, then turned around to see you.

He saw your questioning gaze, and began explaining. "Mike just called me and _informed _me that two young women came to his house looking for you, for some fucking reason. Just like those two men from before at the trailer. When I figure out who these people are…" Trevor growled, clenching his hands into fists. You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly puzzled.

Then, it hit you. "Trev… Did Michael happen to describe what they looked like to you, by any chance?"

"Yeah. He said that one of them had long black hair with brown eyes, and the other one had light brown hair with blue eyes. What, do you know these chicks or something?"

You felt your heart skip a beat. "… I think I do. I think I may know the black haired one. I… Used to be rather close friends with a black haired, brown eyed woman back in Sal Franzo. She was a part of my crew, before the shit hit the fan." You had a sort of distant gaze. Trevor knew exactly how you were feeling at that particular moment and he sympathized.

"Look, if she's a ghost from your past, I've been there. How do you think _I _felt when I found out that Mike was alive? After _ten _fucking years? I thought he was dead! I _mourned _that mother fucker!"

You didn't say much in response. You sighed, and shook your head. "The worst part about it is that I have no idea if I should even be _happy _about my best friend being potentially alive and free. For all I know, _she _could have been the snitch that destroyed my fucking life in Sal Franzo."

Trevor approached you, putting two reassuring hands on your shoulders. "And if she ___is _that snitch, I'll help you chop up her body and deliver it to a cannibalistic cult. Sound good, amigo?"

You smiled, and nodded. "Sounds good, Trev. Thanks. I sorta needed that."

He gave you two thumbs up. "Fucking beautiful! Now, if you'll excuse me, there's some whiskey calling my name in the kitchen…" He walked off to the kitchen. You followed him, leaning against the fridge as he poured himself a glass. "Hey, uh, about earlier… I'm sorry." You started, guilt heavy in your voice.

Without turning to face you, Trevor replied, "Sorry for _what_?"

"Sorry for forcing you into talking about shit that you clearly didn't want to talk about. That was selfish and shitty of me. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Trevor turned around, slugging down the whiskey. "No, princess, I should be the one apologizing here. To be fair, I'm pretty damned sure that _I _took the asshole crown in that situation."

"I beg to differ, honestly. I should have respected your boundaries."

He shrugged, pouring himself another glass. After a bit of a silence while he slugged the second glass down, he made eye contact with you. "Well… Alright, I'm just gonna get this over with so that we can shut the fuck up about all of this. To answer your questions: Yes, I have "feelings" for you. I don't know _why _you need me to spell it out for you, it should be obvious enough. I don't just cuddle and make out with people that I fucking hate, you know. And two: Patricia is a lost cause. She's been married for thirty years, and she can't really be anything else to me because of that. So, as of right now, princess…" He approached you, handing you your own glass of whiskey. "You've got Uncle T here _all _to yourself."

You smiled, taking the glass and drinking some of the whiskey. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that, honestly. But… It's pretty damned good to know that I'm not the only one feeling anything over here." You leaned up to him, playfully pulling the collar of his white shirt forward and snapping it. "… And it's also good to know that I have you _all _to myself…" You whispered in his ear, then pushed him away. You walked off to Floyd's bedroom, which had now become you and Trevor's bedroom, and wondered if he would follow.

Trevor set down his whiskey and nearly stormed after you into the bedroom, taking off his shirt as he went and tossing it carelessly aside in the hallway. He slammed the door open, nearly breaking the lock in the process. He found you sitting on the edge of the bed with your clothing already off, wearing nothing but your bra and panties. You looked at him with a sly grin, and had quite the devilish look in your eyes.

He grinned. "Oh, _now _we're talkin', sweet cheeks! You're playing with fire here..."

Without another word, Trevor advanced towards you and shoved you down on the bed forcefully. He climbed on top of you and slipped your underwear off, letting his hand slither down to your nether regions. "What, you're not even gonna buy me dinner first?" You joked, a grin on your face.

"Oh, I've already got my dinner right in front of me, princess." He replied cleverly. Before you could get the joke, he bent his head down in between your legs. And, holy shit, that was probably the best joke in the history of jokes. You gasped and arched your back against the sheets of the bed as you felt his tongue against your sex, this being the first time that you'd ever experienced this. You found yourself gripping at the bed sheets, overwhelmed with the sudden pleasure.

He pulled away momentarily, "I'm on a strict vagina-only diet, by the way. It's _such _a low carb diet. You should try it sometime. I gotta look good in my bikini, after all."

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breathes. You laughed, giving him the finger. "I have a rather strict penis-only diet, so I'm fine, thanks."

He loomed back over you, sliding two fingers into you as he moved. You squirmed underneath him as he moved his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously stimulating you. You began to let out soft gasps, your knuckles turning white from gripping at the sheets.

Just seeing you squirm underneath him was getting him going, honestly. He got a slightly sadistic kick off of it. You tried to sit up, "Stop, stop, it's my turn." You muttered, barely being able to produce functional words. Trevor pushed you back down. "Ah ah ah, princess… You just sit tight. You're not going to do a damned thing to me today. It's aaaall about you right now…" He had a certain growl to his voice that sent shivers down your spine.

Truthfully, Trevor's motivations behind not allowing you to pleasure him with anything other than standard sex was fairly innocent. He simply wanted you to get comfortable with him before you tried anything. He wouldn't outright show it, but he was trying to help you with your emotional barriers in his own little way. He continued stimulating you until you were wet enough to power your own fucking slip n slide. Just ___watching _you writhe beneath him got him off enough.

"Trev, please…"

"Yeees, princess? _Please ____what_?" He played dumb, teasing you by pressing and grinding his groin against your own. "Just do it. Please."

"Whaaaat? _I can't hear you~!_" He almost cheered, wanting you to beg for it. His erection was firm beneath his underwear, and he was just waiting for the right moment. "Trevor, ___please_, I'm fucking begging you." Your voice was reduced to a whimper at this point.

"Now _that's _more like it!" He growled, taking his underwear off. He slid himself inside of you, and you breathed in heavily with a sharp gasp. He started off slowly, merely to get you used to him inside of you. He would only go faster if you told him to. "Harder." You whimpered after a couple of minutes, and he almost immediately complied. He pumped himself in and out of you much harder, and watched as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You couldn't even help the velvet moans that you'd released into the open air, honestly wishing that you could for Floyd's sake.

In the bathroom, Floyd sat on the toilet listening to every god damned second of it. "Shoulda never let that man back in here…" Floyd muttered to himself, hearing your almost rhythmic moans through the walls.

Wade, who was sitting on the couch, looked over at Floyd as he left the bathroom. "Hey Floyd, is they fighten' in there?" Wade asked, looking genuinely worried. Floyd shook his head, "I wish they were, cousin. I wish they were." Floyd then proceeded to crank up the radio loud enough to hopefully drown you and Trevor out.

Trevor let out small grunts with each thrust, pounding into you much to his satisfaction at this point. "Ooooh, shit." He groaned, feeling his end nearing. His jaw tightened, and he tensed up. Before he came, he pulled out of you, realizing that he'd forgotten to put a condom on. He ended up, as a result, releasing himself all over your stomach. You normally would have been grossed out, but you hardly gave a shit right now. You weren't quite at your end yet. He helped you along by continuing to rub your sex, until your end had finally come as well. You let out a heavy breath as you felt you release, which was like nothing you had ever felt before. You couldn't describe it. It had just been sheer ecstasy.

Trevor laid next to you on the bed, a grin on his face. "I'd say your penis-only diet is going along pretty fuckin' well, if I do say so myself."

You playfully smacked him. "Oh, shut your fucking face. I hate you."

He wrapped his arm around you, and you instinctively pulled yourself closer to him. "Well… That was nice." You muttered, chuckling.

"It didn't last long enough. Next time, you're getting the _whole _package, sugar tits. I'm not going easy on you next time."

"Ooo, I'm _so _scared." You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

He grinned. "Oh you should be, princess… You should be."

**Author's Note: **

Hey there, guys! Thanks for reading!

Apologies for any grammatical errors, some typos tend to slip past me. Even when I proof read. Lol.

Anyway, I'm currently in the process of transferring the rest of the chapters for When Two Worlds Collide over to here on this site.

This story was originally posted as a text post on Tumblr in chapters, so I thought that it needed a more proper and organized place to be read. :)

This story got a lot of praise on Tumblr, and I totally wasn't expecting it! Lol. Anyway, keep on reading. I'll have the rest of the chapters posted in no time.


	7. The Vanilla Unicorn

"Jesus fucking christ, princess! You make my driving look like an 80 year old woman after church's driving!" Trevor yelled, holding on to the passenger side door of his red Canis Bodhi as tightly as his strong arms allowed him to. His Bodhi violently jerked every which way as you took the wheel, grinning with mischievous delight. You very obviously purposely swerved towards the sidewalk and nearly smooshed someone like a pancake on more than one occasion.

Usually, you didn't _actually _hit anyone. You just liked scaring the shit out of people. This time, however, the two of you heard a rather distinct _CRUNCH__!_beneath the truck. You kept on driving, cackling like a maniac.

"Hey, _you _told me that I could fuckin' drive today! So I don't wanna hear shit from you, dickbag!" You replied humorously, making an abrupt and violently sharp left turn.

"Make a right up here, sweetheart! It's right around the corner!" Trevor directed, having to literally yell over the blasting radio. Of course, it was on Channel X. He then looked you up and down, grinning at your very obvious sadistic and borderline homicidal sense of humor. He reached his hand down to his crotch to adjust himself. "Oooo! Man, babe, you'd better watch out! You're gonna give me a semi with the way you're acting over there!"

Since you and Trevor had… Well, been intimate, about a week had passed. You'd now spent a little over a month with Trevor all in all, and you found yourself feeling completely comfortable around him. To you, he felt like a lover and a best friend. Although, you were still trying to keep one foot out the door… You'd only known this man for about a month, after all. He could still do a full fucking 180 and betray you if he wanted to.

You were smitten, but you weren't fucking stupid. You stayed sharp.

You turned his truck to the right as directed, and the expression on your face went from an almost maniacal grin to a flat out poker face once you saw what your destination had been. You eyed the building in front of you and shook your head. You turned your head to Trevor. _"__Really? The _Vanilla Unicorn? A___strip __club?"_

You parked the truck and got out, slamming the door behind you. Trevor got out from the passenger side and held his arms out as he walked towards the front door of the strip club. "C'MON, PRINCESS! You've been seeming really fuckin' uptight lately, and _everyone _needs a nice pair of tits in their life! We're detoxin' with tits today, amigo!"

You sighed and shook your head, following him. "I'm straight as an arrow, fuckhead."

"You don't need to be fuckin' gay to be able to appreciate an amazing set of tits, sweetheart! The fuck is that kind of attitude!?"

You definitely did need to unwind a bit. Ever since Trevor had told you about the two women that showed up on Michael's doorstep, your mind rarely left the thought. You rarely _weren't _thinking about it. What was getting to you the most, however, was that Kasha hadn't even personally contacted _you _to reconnect. Why was she looking for you through other people like that? It didn't seem right.

And what if she _was _the snitch? You were starting to have a feeling in your gut… That she, in fact, was. Why else would Kasha be blatantly avoiding you like this? If Kasha was happy to hear about you being alive, she would have called or texted you by now. _Not _indirectly stalk you through your friends. You started to feel a burning pain in your chest. The burning pain of imminent betrayal.

You quietly followed Trevor into the strip club, your enthusiasm suddenly coming to a grinding halt as your mind began to linger on the Kasha shit again. Trevor barged into the club, holding his arms out. "The house of TITS and objectifying women! Fuck yeah, baby!" He preached, partially sarcastically. He never cared much for the idea of objectifying women. He never displayed it much, but Trevor had quite the amount of respect for women. He never even let Wade refer to Ashley as a "bitch." Not even casually.

Trevor looked back at you, then. He saw that your eyes had drifted to the floor. Your arms had been folded in front of you now, and you seemed to all but shut down. It was a drastic contrast to how you were acting just minutes ago in the Bodhi, rampaging through the streets. He frowned. "Look, princess, I took you here to take your mind _off _of that crap. Let's go get some drinks and forget about our fucking problems, alright?" His tone seemed to soften slightly. He understood exactly what you were going through. He'd just been through it with Michael.

You nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I hear ya. Go get the booze, I'll sit and watch some boobs over there." You said with a light chuckle, taking a seat in one of the red leather chairs. There was a circular wooden table in front of you, and another empty chair directly across from you reserved for Trevor.

You watched the strippers dance. Honestly, stripping kind of baffled you. These women must have been so fit to be able to dance on poles like that, jesus. You admired them. Just then, Trevor came back with some shots of whiskey. "It's always whiskey with you, isn't it? Sheesh. Old men… They're always so set in their ways." You joked, giving him a sly grin with a wink before downing one of your shots. You shook your head afterwards and felt goosebumps rise on your skin. Man, whiskey was strong shit. You always forgot.

After Trevor took his shot, he pointed towards you. "___That's__ why_ I dig you, princess. You're bitchy as hell. _And _you have the body of a fuckin' goddess." He took another shot of whiskey.

"Patricia ain't got shit on this." You took another shot.

"Aye! Watch it there, amigo. Patricia's a wonderful woman."

"What, and I'm not?"

"Oh, please! Don't even start with that crap! Just keep drinking your fuckin' whiskey, sweet cheeks." He leaned forwards a bit over the table separating the two of you. "_Althooough_… I do like it when you get all catty like that." His voice was a low growl. You smirked, taking your third shot. "Oh, honey… Believe me, you haven't seen jack shit yet."

~/~

Kasha sat nested in the parking lot of The Vanilla Unicorn. She was alone. She'd tracked your movements from the news reports and the police cars following your path through the streets. It seemed that you'd been quite the reckless driver still… Hah, some things never changed.

However, it ended today.

Today, Kasha was going to find you alone, and spill your blood on the cold streets of Los Santos. You were the only loose end for her. You were the only competition. With you dead, Kasha's rise to illegal power in Los Santos would be unmatched… At least, for a time.

No part of Kasha felt guilty for striving for the murder of her best friend. You and Kasha had spent half of your lives together. You went to school together, had known each other's families, all of that repulsive shit… Kasha viewed survival as being more important than any friendship. She viewed sentimentality as a weakness.

Kasha gripped the steering wheel of her car, which was parked directly outside of the strip club. She would wait for you and your assumed boyfriend to leave… And wait for the right moment to strike.

However, that boyfriend was going to be a problem.

Kasha would just need to be careful.

~/~

Hours had passed.

You and Trevor stumbled out of The Vanilla Unicorn, as shit faced as could be. You'd been holding on to each other for balance, but it only resulted in a bit of a stuppored mess with the both of you tripping over each other's feet.

After tripping at least three times, the both of you finally made it to the Bodhi. "I'LL DRIVE~!" Trevor slurred, making his way to the driver's seat.

You then literally shoved him out of the way hard enough to send him crashing to the parking lot ground. "NO! How _dare _you TELL ME WHAT TO DO! _I'M _DRIVING~!" You insisted, yanking open the driver's side door and plopping yourself on the seat.

Trevor got up and grabbed on to the back bed of the truck, climbing in and laying flat on his back. "This… Is _the _most comfortable fucking bed EVER!" He slurred, stretching out on the metal truck bed.

Trevor then rolled backwards and slammed against the back flap of the truck as you abruptly slammed down on the acceleration, making the oh so graceful journey back to Floyd's apartment.

Along the way, you found yourself crashing into virtually everything. You slammed against neighboring cars relentlessly, crashing into a couple of street light poles, ran through bushes, all of that fun and completely safe shit.

Trevor, after being completely beaten to shit from getting thrown around violently in the bed of the truck, finally managed to slide his way up to the seats of the truck. "HEY! HEEEEY! Do you even KNOW where you're going?! L-L-Let's just STOP somewhere, alright? You can give Uncle T the blowey of his life!" He slurred, trying to slide his way into the passenger seat, but failing miserably once another abrupt acceleration sent him flying back into the bed of the truck.

You made a sharp right turn, slamming Trevor into solid metal inevitably for the thousandth time. "Don't… DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHERE TO GO… I'M A FUCKING ADULT…" You slurred, making a sharp left and crashing into the parking space beneath Floyd's apartment. You tumbled out of the driver's seat, slapping your body on to the concrete ground. Trevor did the same, practically collapsing out of the truck bed. He crawled over to you and slammed himself on top of you.

"Let's… Let's GO! RIGHT NOW! RIGHT HERE! LET'S GO AT IT LIKE FUCKING RABBITS!" Trevor yelled, his alcohol riddled breath invading your face. You cringed and kneed him off. "I… I DON'T WANT YOU. YOU HAVE A PENIS. I CAN'T HAVE THAT!"

The two of you had literally been belligerently screaming loud enough for everyone in the apartment complex to hear. Floyd descended down the stairs to see both you and Trevor laying side by side on the concrete, drunk as skunks.

Floyd shook his head. "Oh, gosh darn it all! If Debra comes home and sees you two…!"

You and Trevor both shot up, simultaneously pointing at Floyd. "WE WILL FUCK DEBRA SENSELESS, THAT'S WHAT WE'LL DO!" Trevor roared, regaining his footing. You used Trevor as a balancing post to get back on your feet as well.

"N-No! Ya both don't understand! She's _home right now! _J-Just go and find somewhere else to cause a ruckus!" Floyd starting pacing and panicking, naturally.

"NO, Floyd! Jesus christ has spoken, and we will promptly be going up there and showing Debra the way of the lord!" You slurred, starting towards the stairs. Trevor followed behind you. He gave your ass an almost too firm of a smack on the way up. You yelped, shooting your hand to your ass cheek. "Trevor, that is NOT the way of the lord!"

Trevor chuckled darkly. "The FUCK it isn't! Last time I checked, a great ass like _yours_ is the only solid proof that jesus fucking christ exists!"

The both of your barged into Floyd's apartment, nearly breaking the door off of one of it's hinges in the process. Debra, who had been sitting on the couch, nearly jumped out of her skin. She shot up and whirled around, her face twisting into a scowl at the site of you and Trevor.

"Who the HECK are these people, Floyd?! GET THEM OUT OF HERE NOOOW!" Debra's voice was already spiked into a hysteria, of course. It didn't take very much to throw that women into a hysterical fit. You and Trevor looked at Debra, almost dumbfounded. Trevor then dropped down to his knees and embraced Debra's legs. "DEBRA! DEBBY! DEB! I'll pay you in ALL of the amazing tit jobs! You gotta let me and the babe stay!" He was pretending to sob into Debra's legs.

Debra kicked Trevor off. She looked at Floyd. "I should _never _have moved in with you. God, you're such a pathetic low life! _I have a __career! _I can't _deal _with this… This… CRAP!" Floyd's eyes widened. "D-Debra. You swore!" "Thaaat's right, Floyd. I _swore_. And it's _all__ your fault_!"

However, Debra was rather rudely interrupted by you literally pouncing yourself on her, causing Debra to collapse on her back on the floor. You laid on top of her. "Trevor! We've gotta show her the way of the lord! COME ON!"

"W-What!?" Debra yelled, trying to shove you off of her, but to no avail.

Trevor then laid on top of you, which pressed even more wait on Debra. She was finding it hard to breath. She clawed at you, "I-I can't breath! FLOYD! FLOOOOYD!"

"Sssssh! You need to focus while you're taking in the warmth of jesus christ!" You yelled, slapping your hand over Debra's mouth. Debra thrashed for her life beneath you and Trevor. Floyd ran up and tried to pry Trevor off first, since he was the one on top of you and Debra, but that little act of bravery only got Floyd a firm (and devastating) punch in the balls. Floyd buckled over and collapsed in a ball on the floor, holding his groin. Trevor pointed at him, "DON'T YOU EVER INTERRUPT A FUCKING RAPTURE, YOU FUCKING ANTI-CHRIST GINGER WHORE!" He roared, pressing his weight down on you to further suffocate Debra.

And the best part was, neither you or Trevor even knew what in the fuck you were actually doing.

Debra gasped for air, but your hand remained on her mouth.

It didn't take long for Debra to stop moving.

"QUICK, BABE! Let's do it like fucking rabbits on her body!" Trevor yelled, coping a drunken feel on your breast. You slapped his hand away and pushed him off, slumping down on the couch closest to you. "Don't… Touch me! I'm an abstinent woman of GOD!"

It didn't take long for you to lose consciousness on the couch.

… You never did find out what happened to Debra.


	8. A Ghost From Your Past

It was way too fucking hot in Los Santos today. God, you could only imagine how blisteringly treacherous it was out in Blaine Country right now.

You strode down one of the many busy and alive streets of Los Santos in solitude, your purse slung over your shoulder. You walked through the street, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone, your eyes glued to the concrete beneath your feet as you pushed through the idiocy of the public. You hated walking anywhere in this city by yourself. Especially since you'd started living with Trevor. You'd been basically living with Trevor for a little over a month now, and you'd unfortunately found yourself to be feeling a little strange to not have him by your side today.

You'd grown so used to constantly having that psychopath of a man around you 24/7 that you honestly didn't exactly feel right without the bastard around.

Currently, all you were doing was making a quick grocery run for the house. Nothing major. You wanted the trip to be as fast as possible, because being out in public was one of the things that you despised the most. You spotted the fairly large grocery store up ahead at the end of the street. You stuffed your hands in your jacket pockets and strode forwards, your jacket hood up over your head.

And, incidentally, the jacket that you'd been wearing actually belonged to Trevor. You had sort of "stolen" it from him, so to speak, and he didn't seem to really give a shit. So you'd just decided to keep it. It was a shitty, dirty, beaten grey sweater.

Little did you know, however, that a ghost from your past had been watching you while shrouded in secrecy the entire walk. Kasha had been keeping her distance, but her brown eyes locked on to your back like a wolf stalking it's prey. She was just waiting for the opportune time to strike. Kasha was actually feeling pretty fucking excited. Because, honestly, it was an extremely rare occasion to catch you completely alone like this. You were always with that one overly aggressive old guy.

Kasha watched you walk into the grocery store. You looked nervous. Kasha grinned and muttered to herself, "Aw… How precious. It looks like ___someone _simply can't stand being alone anywhere anymore."

You were only in the grocery store for about ten minutes. You came out with two plastic bags full of some groceries for Floyd's place. The walk back to Floyd's house wasn't a terribly long one. Maybe about a 15 minute walk at most. You had some men oggle you a bit as you made the journey back to Floyd's house, their eyes scanning you up and down from behind. They made a whistle as well, to only further emphasize their primitive behavior. You turned around and looked at the man with a scowl. "Really, dude? You think _this _is hot? Some girl wearing a filthy sweater?" You questioned, shaking your head and continuing on.

I mean, seriously. You'd worn the most unattractive clothes on purpose. Blegh.

Kasha positioned herself in an alleyway, and simply waited for you to walk past.

The moment you came into Kasha's vision, she lunged like a lion going in for the kill, and ensnared you in her lethal grasp. She yanked you back into the alleyway and slapped her hand over your mouth, muffling your screams.

You thrashed violently against whoever the flying fuck had decided to try and kidnap you. You must have bruised their knees and thighs to fucking holy hell by now. The attacker pulled you further back into the alleyway, and eventually led you into some kind of building. Within moments, you were shrouded in the darkness of an unknown room.

The moment the attacker released their hand from your mouth, you roared with fury, "Who the FUCK are you!? You're a fucking idiot for taking me, I'll tell you that much. You don't know who you're fucking with."

"… Oh, but as a matter of fact, I do."

You felt your heart skip a beat. You recognized that smooth, seductress voice instantly. She spoke directly in your ear. "K-Kasha?" You were genuinely surprised and completely beyond yourself. You knew that Kasha had been looking for you, but you weren't expecting her to go this far and literally fucking assault and kidnap you.

Kasha slammed you down on what had felt like a chair and quickly tied you down to it tightly with some rope. After appropriately restraining you, the lights in the room flickered on. You looked at your surroundings to discover that you'd been sitting in what looked like an abandoned building. And, to you, it looked like Kasha had been planning this all out for quite some time now. To your left sat a small table, which had a multitude of surgical equipment displayed on it's surface. There were various knives, drills, all of that good shit. Kasha was clearly intending to torture you. But… Why? You didn't understand why she was doing any of this.

You could feel the seething pain of betrayal eating away at you.

Kasha stood in front of you, her arms crossed proudly and confidently. She was thoroughly satisfied that, finally, her plan had successfully been pulled off. "I'm assuming you have some questions, right? I just _love _that look on your face, by the way. You look like a kicked little puppy. It's pretty pathetic." Kasha said snidely, a smile on her face.

Your face twisted into a furious scowl. "It was _you_, wasn't it?! _You're _the fucking snitch!" You accused, knowing in your gut that your assumption was correct.

Kasha nonchalantly shrugged. "Well, it seems pretty fucking obvious enough. You tell me."

"_You piece of fucking ____shit! _I'll KILL you!" You roared, struggling in your chair. All you wanted to do was rip this bitch's chest open. You wanted to see her _dead_. After all of this time, _this _fucking cunt was the reason why you're life had turned into a piece of shit. Nothing but rage and the sickening feeling of betrayal pumped through you.

Kasha yawned and stretched her arms out. "My, _someone's _a little excited. It's too bad that your little grandpa boyfriend isn't around to save you… Now, I've got you _all _to myself…" Kasha's voice slid through her lips as her index finger lightly touched the delicate flesh of your neck. As she walked around you, she let her long fingernail harshly drag across your neck, leaving a red line. "Let's save all of this melodramatic crap for later, shall we? I'm more in the mood the spill your blood and watch your suffer." She said, giving you a wink.

You were still completely fucking lost. Why_? Why was she doing this? _"Just… Tell me _why_, Kasha. At least give me that! Tell me _why _you did what you did to our crew. Tell me _why _you have me fucking strapped to a chair like this. I'm your _best fucking friend_, for fuck's sake! Where did all of this _come _from!?" Your voice boomed and echoed through the empty room. You could feel yourself shaking and wanting to cry, but you refused to shed any tears for this piece of shit in front of you. You wouldn't allow her to have that satisfaction.

Kasha sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. So maybe I _do _owe you some answers…" She grinned, and made direct eye contact with you. "I was never your "best friend", _. I was never in that crew in Sal Franzo for "friendship." I ratted you pathetic fucks out to the cops because I needed that extra boost up. I needed that advantage of having no competition. It's called _survival_, _. Nostalgia and sentimentality make even the best and strongest of criminals into spineless idiots. I mean, hey, look at _you. _I decided to track you down in Los Santos to… Well, to tie up my last loose end. Everyone else from our old crew is dead. I killed them all."

You lunged forward in the chair, pushing against the ropes with all of your strength. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. Three of your _best__ friends_… Dead. Murdered, but someone else who you thought had also been your best friend. You hung your head in silence for a minute, then slowly brought your eyes up to Kasha. "… We spent our entire childhood together. We _all _did. All of those memories… Those laughs, dinners, parties… And you just _killed _them all? You just _killed them_? After everything that we've all been through together…" Your voice had been reduced to a low, somber tone. You sounded completely vacant and empty. Memories from your childhood began flashing through your mind, and you could feel an unbearable pain begin to flare up in your chest. And, suddenly, tears started pouring down your face without your control. You couldn't hold them in anymore. "How can you just _do _that? _How?!" _

Kasha simply looked down at your, her hands clenching into tight fists. A look of guilt plagued her porcelain face momentarily, and she looked away. "I… I did what I needed to do to survive, _. One of these days, you'll understand that. And now, it's down to you. You're the last loose end. You're the last competition. After you're gone, I can finally go back and rule the criminal world of Sal Franzo."

"And _then _fucking what, huh!? You'll go back home and sit on your _empty fucking throne _with no friends! The only people supporting you will be some shitty motherfuckers that don't give a _fuck _about you! Is all of that power really even worth murdering everyone that you cared about? You're fucking pathetic, Kasha. Fucking pathetic. Go ahead, kill me! Kill me, the last person that understands you, and run back home to Sal Franzo and live a shitty, miserable, _lonely _life sitting on a throne of fucking lies!" You roared, your eyes fearlessly digging into Kasha's.

If Kasha was going to kill you, you just wanted her to do it. You didn't care anymore.

Your words sunk deeply into Kasha. She was quiet for a moment, taking it all in. Without another word, she snagged a scalpel from the table next to you. She shoved it up to your throat, but to her surprise, you didn't flinch. You fearlessly stared back at Kasha, waiting for her to do it. "Do it. Fucking do it." You hissed, your jaw tight.

Kasha hesitated. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, and the guilt was clear on her face. She then pressed the scalpel down harder against your throat, a trickle of blood making it's way down your throat. "You think that I won't do it?" Kasha said, "Fucking watch me." Kasha then began to slit your throat. But just as she began, someone broke the door to the building down. Kasha shot back and whirled around to see the invader. All you had was a small cut on the left side of your neck.

"Heeeeello there, crazy pants! Hey, here's an idea: How 'bout you get your fucking scalpel away from my girl's neck, huh?" An all too familiar voice said from the front door of the building, approaching Kasha. Trevor didn't appear to be armed. You were completely confused… How in the hell did he know you were here? How did he find you?

Kasha looked just as confused as you. "You? How did you…?" Kasha questioned, her eyes narrowing down on Trevor.

He waved his hand dismissively at Kasha. "Doesn't matter, sugar tits. Nooow, _usually_, I hate hitting women, but you're kind of the fucking exception here. Mostly because you're not even worth being deemed as a human being." Kasha backed up as Trevor continued towards her. All you could do was watch.

Trevor motioned to the "CUT HERE" tattoo along his throat. "Why don't you slit MY throat, huh!? I mean, come on, I've got a fucking tattoo telling you to for fuck's sake! C'mon, cut me!"

Kasha reached for the pistol fastened on her waist and pointed it at Trevor. "I'll fucking blow your psychotic brains out, old man!"

"Ooooo, a toughie! I LIKE IT! Too bad I'd rather see your fucking body processed into paste!" He then charged towards Kasha. Kasha fired the pistol, but was shooting a bit too frantically to actually hit Trevor. It was painfully apparent that she was terrified of Trevor, and it made you laugh.

Trevor tackled Kasha and threw her on your ground, landing a solid and devastating punch directly down on Kasha's throat. Kasha lurched and gasped for air, grabbing at her throat. "Does that fucking FEEL good? Huh?! I bet you're havin' the time of your fuckin' life right now, aren't ya?!" Trevor roared, landing another punch in Kasha's face, breaking her nose instantly.

Kasha cried out in pain, but kneed Trevor in the groin as hard as she could, and his reaction gave her that small window of time to escape. She pushed the largely framed man off of her and kicked the heel of her beet into his gut while he was down. He didn't stay on the floor for long. Trevor got back up, despite the agonizing pain his balls were feeling, and stampeded after the now fleeing Kasha.

Kasha ran out of the back door of the building, holding her nose. Blood gushed down her face and all down her neck, and she was still finding it difficult to breath from that fucking throat punch. She wasted no time in getting in her car and speeding off.

Trevor ran out and watched Kasha make her getaway. "Arggh, FUCK!" He growled, running back into the building to free you from your restraints. He cut you loose, and you rose to your feet. Your eyes were swollen from the crying, and you looked like a complete mess. Your eyes had nothing in them. You looked emotionally exhausted. "Trevor… Let's just go home. Please."

"No, what? Are you fuckin' kidding me?! You're telling me that you'd rather let that bitch get away?!"

"I'll… Deal with her later, Trevor. I just want to go home. I've got a lot on my mind right now. She just… Dropped a bit of a bomb shell on me." You began walking out of the building, grabbing the bags of groceries that you'd dropped in the building. You stopped at the doorway, waiting for Trevor to follow. "But… Wait, seriously, how did you find me here?"

"It's called the news, sweetheart. There was a report talking about a potential kidnapping, and they gave a description of you. And, well, I knew you were wearing my sweater, and they said you were wearing a grey sweater, so… I investigated. It's not rocket science, babe." He climbed in the driver's seat of his bodhi, and you sat next to him. He looked over at you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Look, whatever she said back there… In the end, all of that shit from the past hardly matters anymore. All you can do is keep living your shitty life."

You nodded. "Thanks. But… There's more to it than that."

He started driving. "I won't force it out of ya, princess."

You didn't mind telling him. You took a deep breath. And without looking at him, you continued. "Okay. I want you to imagine something for me. Imagine you, Michael, Brad, and Franklin all in a crew together. Now, let's say that the four of you grew up together. Since childhood. You shared memories, and formed bonds…" You trailed off, feeling that pang of pain again.

Trevor nodded. "Okay…"

"Now, imagine this. Imagine Michael murdering Franklin and Brad to tie up all "loose ends." So that he could be some ruling king with no competition. Now, he's coming after you because you're the last loose end. You're the last one that he needs to kill."

Trevor was silent for a minute, putting the pieces together. His knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. His jaw tightened. "So, you're telling me that this fucking _cunt ____murdered_ her own best friends? You're seriously fuckin' telling me that?"

You hardly ever heard Trevor refer to _any _woman as a "bitch" or a "cunt," or any other disrespectful slur. He never even hit women. Or at least, he never _liked _to. So… Hearing Trevor refer to Kasha like that said a lot to you. It told you that he didn't even think of her as a human being, honestly. You nodded, "That's exactly what I'm telling you. Trevor, I literally just found out that all of my best friends from _childhood _were murdered in cold blood. I just… Ugh." You sighed and shook your head, looking away. "It's a lot to deal with, man."

Trevor put his hand on your thigh in an attempt to comfort you. The two of you pulled up to Floyd's apartment. He looked over at you and saw that you'd been looking away. "Hey. Look at me."

You turned your head to look at him. As it turns out, you'd been crying again. But you were merely trying to hide it from him. He turned off the car and wiped away some of the years with his thumb. This was all a little unusual for him, so you were slightly surprised. You smiled. He made eye contact with you. "Is that all I've gotta do to make you smile, princess? Really?" He joked, then spoke seriously. "Look. For what it's worth, I'm here for you. I always will be. Don't you ever think for fucking second that you're going through this alone." His voice had taken a less harsh tone.

You smiled more, and nodded. "That means a lot, Trev. I don't really have anybody else right now anyway. You're all I've got."

He grinned, opening the car door and stepping out of his bodhi. You followed. "Ah! So you're stuck with good 'ol Uncle T! Fuckin' beautiful!"

You rolled your eyes.

He was a little shit, but you loved him.


	9. Kreig

Kasha needed a new plan. She was abundantly surprised that she'd even managed to make it out of there alive, honestly. Kasha sat slumped down on her shitty couch in her dumpy apartment, sighing to herself in defeat.

What you had said to her was really starting to get under her skin, and Kasha was starting to re think her motives here. Survival… But for what?

You were right. Kasha had killed all of her best friends… For survival. But what would that get her, in the end? An empty throne, and a lonely life. Kasha would have the lack of competition that she'd always craved, but she would be left alone in the process.

Was all of this _really _worth such a shitty life?

Kasha shook her head. "I became so blinded… I never saw what she saw. My lust for power clouded everything. Every rational thought." Kasha muttered to herself, alone in her apartment.

Regardless, she'd already gone in too deep. She needed to finish the job. She still needed to kill you. It was too fucking late to be having second thoughts like this. Kasha needed to scrounge up a small team… And ambush you. That way, your old man of a boyfriend wouldn't be able to save you so easily.

Kasha just needed some time to properly plan this out…

~/~

"FUCK I've missed it out here! Rednecks, hippies, and all of the meth in the fuckin' world, baby!" Trevor cheered, his foot flooring the acceleration pedal down on his Bodhi. You sat in the passenger seat, rolling your eyes and chuckling at him. Sandy Shores was probably the shittiest place that you'd ever seen in your life, but it had a weird charm to it.

Trevor made a sharp turn down one of the many streets in the small town of Sandy Shores, hawling ass down to the street's end. He squashed someone's dog on the way, and you heard it's final yelp along with an appetizing _CRUNCH__!_

"MMMM, looks like it's chinese for dinner, princess!" Trevor exclaimed, slamming on his breaks once he'd reached his trailer at the end of the street. "Chinese, Trevor? Really? That's probably the most brilliantly racist thing that you've ever said." You said, following him into his trailer. Ron, of course, was pacing back and forth on Trevor's porch. He was muttering some weird shit to himself, as usual. You could sort of make out something… "I hear them, but I… I can't see them! They must have some sort of cloaking device…"

You shook your head. Ron was… A truly weird one. You tried to avoid him. You liked Wade's company better.

Trevor kicked his trailer's door open, "AAAAH YES! Home sweet fuckin' home!" Trevor held his arms out and did a bit of a twirl in the trailer, making his way over to the fridge. "**RON!**" Trevor suddenly roared, throwing you a beer and taking one for himself. You moved out of the doorway, caught the beer, and plopped down on his couch.

Ron ran in like a scared little chihuahua. "Y-Yeah, Trevor? What is it?"

Trevor planted a punch in Ron's gut. "NOTHING! What, I can't just say hey to a good 'ol pal like yourself? Did ya miss me, buddy? Huh?"

Ron held his gut, groaning a bit.

Trevor advanced towards him further, nearly out of the trailer and on to the porch. "I CAN'T HEEEEAR YOU! Did ya MISS me, Ronny boy?! Huh?!"

"Y-Yeah, Trevor! I missed ya! I MISSED YA!" Ron almost pleaded, holding his hands up in front of his face to protect himself from another potential blow from the maniac himself.

"Oh, well that's just fuckin' beautiful! C'mon, Ronald, give your good 'ol pal T a hug, huh? Yeah, c'mere…" Trevor held his arms out and slowly wrapped his arms around Ron. It was one of those really tense, awkward hugs. All you did was watch the little scene fold out in front of you. You were thoroughly entertained. You opened your beer, sat back, and enjoyed the show.

Once Trevor pulled away from the hug, he suddenly and violently shoved Ron over the railing of his trailer's porch. Ron landed on the dirty, dusty desert ground outside with a thud, landing on his back. "I'M SORRY TREVOR! I-I'M SORRY!"

Trevor leaned over the railing, looking down at Ron. "What're you _sorry _for, buddy?! I'm just showin' you some brotherly love!"

Ron got up and scurried off to his own trailer.

Trevor turned around to face you, walking back into his trailer. "Ron's a good guy. I just like beating the shit out of him from time to time." He finally opened his beer and almost drank the entire thing in one go.

You giggled. "That was the funniest shit that I've seen in a long time, Trev. Abuse your friends more often."

You were still trying not to think about what had happened with Kasha a couple of days ago, but it was hard not to. Kasha was still out there somewhere… Ugh. That thought alone drove you ape shit insane. She didn't _deserve _to live. She had no right to. Your hands clenched into tight fists, the hand around your beer bottle clutched the bottle.

Trevor looked down at your hands and sighed. "Still thinking about it, huh?"

"Well, no shit. That's not just something that I'm going to get over in a couple of fucking days, you know. My whole word got turned upside down. I just-" Suddenly, Trevor had a firm grip on your forearm. It was almost painful. He forcefully yanked you up to your feet and used his other arm to pull you to him. He suddenly silenced you with a sloppy kiss that tasted like stale beer.

At first, you weren't in the mood. But at this point, you would take anything as a viable distraction. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, although it wasn't very graceful. Trevor's makeout sessions were _never _graceful, or like any of that bullshit from the movies. God, no.

His kisses were pretty much exactly like him: Sloppy, and deranged.

His tongue sloshed around in your mouth, while yours did the same within his. You felt his hands slide down to your bum, giving it a firm squeeze with both hands. He then picked up by your bum, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist for support. He set you down on the closest counter, and continued to ravish you.

He pulled away. As he did, you playfully bit his lip. A devilish smirk had been plastered all over your face. You made eye contact with Trevor, who loomed over you both in width and height. "Was that your way of trying to take my mind off of it, T?"

"You bet your sexy little ass it was, princess." He said, going in for another kiss. Then, of course, his phone started going off in his pocket. He tried to ignore it for a while. He let it ring and go to voice mail twice, but whoever it was just kept on calling over and over again. Trevor aggressively pulled away from you and yanked his phone out of his pocket, answering the call. "This had better be REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT, ASSHOLE!"

"T, come over here. Bring the girl. It's important, alright? I'll explain when you get here." Michael's voice said on the other line, but Trevor's face twisted into a scowl. "Fucking GOD DAMN IT, Mikey!" Trevor yelled, clearly being thrown into one of his special little moods. "Yeah, love you too, T." And with that, Michael hung up. Trevor put his phone back in his pocket and sighed his anger away, looking over at you.

You chuckled. "Did you really just get _that angry _because you got cock blocked, babe?"

"YES I FUCKING DID! Because, look, I have fucking _needs_, okay! NEEDS!"

"Like… Vaginal needs?"

"YES! FUCKING _VAGINAL_ NEEDS!"

You literally planted your hand on your face and shook your head. "Only you, babe. Only you. Anyway, who was that and what'd they want?"

"It was Mikey. He wants us both to head down to his place for whatever fucking reason… He was being real vague, as usual. So we'll just figure it out when we get there."

~/~

It was a long drive back to Los Santos, as usual.

Trevor didn't even knock. He barged into the De Santa's home, leaving a filthy footprint on their lovely stained glass front door. "MIIIIIKEY! Your deranged, psychotic, piece of shit best friend is heeeere!" Trevor exclaimed, his voice booming through the house. He made his way into Michael's living room, seeing his best friend sitting on couch. You followed Trevor.

Michael looked over at the two of you, putting out his cigar. "It's about fuckin' time, you two. Jesus."

"Well, _I'm sorry_, princess, but we kind of fucking live out in the god damned hillbilly fucking _boonies_, in case that slipped your pretty little brain!"

Michael was about to respond, but you intervened immediately before it escalated into yet another one of their ridiculous arguments. God, they argued like a fucking married couple. "Alfuckingright you two, don't even start with this crap. What's up, Mike?"

Trevor grumbled something under his breath. Michael rolled his eyes. _"____Anyway,__ Lester_ picked up some information about that chick that's been stalkin' you, _."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I actually just had a bit of an altercation with her the other day. She fucking kidnapped me, told me that all of my best friends were dead, and then Trevor here came in and saved the day miraculously."

"Lester picked up some information about a lot of recent gang related activity around Los Santos. Not just any gang activity, though. This gang is brand spankin' new, and we've got reason to believe that your little arch nemesis here is runnin' the whole show."

You shrugged. "You couldn't have just told Trev that over the phone? Whatever. Regardless, that's not good. That means that she's been planning something big to end my life after her last little failed attempt. If she's getting a gang together, we're gonna need to retaliate. Because, look, here's the thing: These "gang attacks" probably aren't even attacks at all. They're trying to find me. They're searching the whole damned city for me, I bet."

Trevor shook his head. "Fuckin' hell, princess! You're like some kind of fucked up little celebrity, aren't ya?"

"We're gonna need to protect you, then. But we'll need to get a crew together." Michael said, staying relatively serious, ignoring Trevor.

"I have an idea. How about we set them all up. We'll have someone give them some information… Maybe tell them that someone's captured me and has me hostage somewhere. We'll wait, with our crew, at the location that we'll give to them. Kasha's gang will came and meet our badass crew, and it'll be a fucking _war. _How about it?"

"A WAR TO END ALL WARS! I'm in!" Trevor crowed, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Michael looked a little unsure. "It seems fucking stupid and reckless to me, kid. I dunno. We'll need a damned good crew to pull that shit off."

"What's that, Mikey? I can't hear you over your fucking _flapping vagina lips. _You've gone soft, old man! C'mon, we've done all out fucking wars before! What the fuck was North Yankton, huh? A fucking gay pride parade?!"

Michael waved a dismissive hand towards Trevor. "Yeah, yeah. I get your fuckin' point, T. It just seems a little barbaric to me." He turned his attention towards you. "And, not to be a dick, but I don't think an all out war is worth saving your ass, kid."

Ouch. Trevor flared up almost immediately and advanced towards Michael, jabbing his finger into Michael's chest. "The FUCK did you just say?! Huh?! Oh, MIKEY! HOW FUCKING _TYPICAL_! Are we thinking about _ourself _again, Mikey?! What. a fucking. SHOCKER!"

Michael shoved Trevor away. "Look, T, whatever. I fuckin' get it, alright? I just don't know the kid well enough to risk my fuckin' life for her!"

They were starting to get into it. Again. Ugh. You stood and rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on already.

"DO IT FOR ME, MIKEY! For fuck's sake, for ONE DAY, try not thinking about your fucking self, amigo! ONE DAY! I don't give a shit about how you feel towards her, do it for fuckin' me!" Trevor roared, his face twisted into a furious scowl. As usual.

Again, you needed to intervene. "GUYS! Holy fucking shit, cool it! Take some god damned chill pills! Are you two _always _this fucking dysfunctional?"

The both of them simultaneously pointed at each other, and at the same time, said: "NO, _HE'S _THE FUCKING DYSFUNCTIONAL ONE!"

You sighed. "Okay. Michael, I get it. I wouldn't want to go through all of that for someone that I hardly know either. Trust me, I get it. No hard feelings. _However_, as your newly established friend, I really need your help with this, okay? It would mean a lot to me. But I'd totally get it if you didn't want any part of it."

Michael listened, and nodded. "Thanks, kid. You're a hell of a lot more rational than the fuckin' old man next to you, you know that?"

Trevor tensed up and lunged forward a bit, but you held an arm out in front of him and stopped him almost instantly. You knew it was coming. "Trevor, chill." Your voice was stern, but calm. But amazingly enough, he backed off and sighed angrily behind you.

"… I'll think about it. In the mean time, I'll give Lester a call and tell him about our little plan here. He'll help us make it more concise." Michael said, taking another puff of his cigar. "I'm gettin' too fuckin' old for this shit, man." Michael muttered to himself, shaking his head.

The end was nearing. You felt good about this plan, honestly. It was barbaric, yes, but you were confident that it would put an end to Kasha's bullshit. A full on slaughter is what we needed.

… But, mostly, you needed to personally put a bullet in Kasha's skull.


	10. The Big Blowout

Three days had passed. You had been working with Lester privately to gather up a crew for the "Big Blowout," as you'd started calling it. This was basically going to be an all or nothing war. It would either end with Kasha and her shitty little minions dead, or _you _dead along with all of your pals. But, today was the day. You'd done more than enough planning.

You sat on a shanty couch in Lester's small office within his little factory, staring at his white board. You had your legs crossed, and you could feel anxiety swirling within you. You were, truthfully, really fucking nervous about all of this.

You hadn't even been listening to Lester. "… And, well, luring all of the bad guys into that one spot could be a bit tricky…" You tuned back in, watching Lester skeptically eye the numerous pages taped to the white board in front of him. "Are you even listening to me?" He snapped, shooting a glance your way.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah. I am. I'm just freaking the fuck out a bit is all. We've already gone over the plans, Lest. It's not that complicated. We send a false message to Kasha giving our location away, and wait for her and her crew to arrive. Then, blam blam blam, shoot shoot shoot, done. I get the gist of it." You stood up, stretching yourself out. "I trust that you'll gather up some good men to help me out with this. Any word on if Mike's gonna be in on it or not yet?"

Lester shook his head. "No. I haven't heard anything from Townley. Franklin, however, is willing to help. Just go wait for Trevor outside, and I'll give you two the signal when it's time to start heading over to the meeting area." His tone seemed almost annoyed. Honestly, he always sounded a little annoyed.

You nodded. "Righto. Talk to ya in a few." You walked out of the factory, the heat of the sun beaming down on you as you exited, waiting for your dotting little psychotic knight in shining armor to show up.

It didn't take him very long. Trevor arrived by carelessly crashing through a number of parked cars with his large Canis Bodhi, stopping to a screeching halt in front of you. He leaned over and swung the passenger side door open, "Come on in, princess! Your chariot awaits!"

You sat down in the Bodhi, letting out a long sigh. "Today is just not going to be my day… Potentially killing my bastard ex-best friend? Sounds _so _fun."

"Hey, don't fucking look at it like that. Don't even _think _of her as any sort of "best friend." She's not a human being. She's a piece of degenerate shit, and you should be looking _forward _to beating her face in. Don't let good 'ol nostalgia drag you down now, buddy." He said, driving rather recklessly through the streets of Los Santos.

You shook your head. "It's not like that, really. I'm not _associating _her with any "best friend" bullshit… It's just a weird feeling. You know, setting out to murder one of your childhood friends. It just shouldn't have had to come to this, Trev. This shouldn't even be happening right now."

"But it is. And you're _going _to kill her today. So live with it, get it done, and move on."

Simple advice… It was fairly to the point. You'd take that and run with it for now. Your phone starting buzzing in your pocket. You took it out and answered it, seeing that it was Lester. "Alright, I've got our crew heading to an abandoned parking lot by Vespucci Beach. The parking lot is moderately secluded from the public, and it's in a bit of a crappy area. Don't worry about the police, I'll handle them."

"Thanks, Lest. You're awesome."

"Get the job done, and have fun. Hey, that rhymed. Heh heh." Click. You slide your phone back into your pocket.

"Where we headed to, sugar tits?"

You pointed forward. "Just head to Vespucci Beach. I'll tell you where to go from there. We're heading to some shitty little abandoned parking lot that's secluded from the public."

Trevor nodded. "Roger that, amigo. Off we go!"

~/~

Trevor's Bodhi came to a screeching halt within the vacant parking lot. Trash blew in the warm summer breeze, and lonely cars rotted beneath the sun's rays. You stepped out of the truck, and observed the large space before you. Plenty of cover spots… Those abandoned cars would be perfect. There were also a number of crates laying around, which could also be used as cover. Man, Lester was good at this.

Soon enough, six men approached you and Trevor. Leading them was Franklin, who strode up to you confidently, armed with an SMG. "Aye, when the fuck are these muthafuckas gonna be showin' up?" To your surprise, it seemed that Franklin had also brought his buddy Lamar along with him as well. Lamar walked up to you and gave you a hand shake, "Sup, homie. The names Lamar." You nodded towards Lamar, then responded to Franklin. "They should be here relatively soon… All we have to do is wait. I want all of you to hide and get to cover, now. When Kasha and her crew arrives, I want to be the only one that she sees. I want her to believe that I got set up, okay?"

Franklin nodded. "Aight. Aye, you heard the girl! Get yo asses to cover!" And with that, your crew ran and hide themselves well behind whatever they could find. You felt a hand wrap around yours from behind suddenly, and turned to see Trevor with a look of concern on his face. "You sure about this? We can get in that truck and drive off right now if you want. You don't have to do this."

You made eye contact with Trevor, a new found determination in your eyes. "I don't _want _to do this, I _need _to do this. I'll… I'll be fine, T. All I need is you by my side in this, and I'll be good." Trevor smirked, going back over to his truck and throwing an SMG at you. "Then you'll need this, princess! Spray 'em good!"

You caught the gun and held it with both hands. You took a deep breath in, and let out a heavy sigh. You looked back at Trevor, "Go hide somewhere."

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not just gonna let you stand out there by yourself waiting for the-"

"Don't argue with me, Trevor. Not right now. Just fucking do what I tell you. Please."

Trevor scowled. "Ungh!" He grunted to himself angrily, taking his gun and finding somewhere in the shadows to hide. He didn't feel comfortable with you making the initial face off completely on your own. What if they pulled something? What if they killed you? What if he had to end up watching you die today?

You walked to the center of the parking lot and sat on one of the many crates littered around the place, waiting for Kasha and her goons to show up. Trevor watched you like a fucking hawk, more than ready to lunge out if anything went wrong.

Then, you heard tires screeching not too far off in the distance. You heard car doors slam, and heard footsteps shuffling towards you. Your heart began to race. This was it… _This was it__._

Every hidden member of your crew tensed up, hearing everything that you were hearing. They knew what was coming. And Trevor, especially, was hating every minute of it. If they laid a fucking finger on you…

You looked up and saw Kasha approaching you, with about seven men and women following behind her. She walked with such confidence, such arrogance… It disgusted you. You pretended to act surprised. "Kasha? What the hell is this? Lester told me…"

Kasha smirked. "Well, it seems that you're little buddy Lester fucked you over, girlfriend. Now… It's time to die, bestie." Kasha drew her gun and pointed it at you. However, your reflexes were lighting fast. You dashed behind the crate that you'd just been sitting on and grabbed the SMG that you'd hidden there, opening fire almost immediately on Kasha's crew. None of them were prepared for that. Kasha, and her crew, had been sitting out in the open like sitting ducks.

The moment you opened fire, that was your crew's signal to begin opening fire as well. In an instant, bullets sprayed through the air ferociously. Shots rang out into the air, and the parking lot had turned into a full on war zone. You'd managed to take out one of Kasha's crew just from that little surprise attack that you'd pulled, but members of your crew were already starting to go down. You thought you saw two laying on the ground.

Trevor was using his Bodhi as cover, spraying bullets out into the open, successfully taking down another one of Kasha's men with a clean and satisfying head shot. "YEAAAH! SUCK ON THAT, YOU FUCKERS!" He roared, feeling the adrenaline rush that he'd always been thoroughly addicted to.

You couldn't help but grin when you heard Trevor screaming obscenities at the other end of the parking lot. That reminder that he was with you made you feel… Exponentially better. But in that moment of thought, you'd let your guard down, and you could feel someone grabbing you from behind and pulling you out of your cover. Fuck.

You kicked and squirmed violently in protest, the turned your head to the right to chomp down on your abductor's hand, which had been placed on your shoulder. It was a bit of an awkward bite, but you'd managed to bite their finger pretty damned hard. The man yelped in pain and released you, holding his hand. "You BITCH! YOU FUCKIN' CUNT!" The man cried out, getting ready to slam the blunt of his gun into your skull.

You regained your footing quickly and slammed your fist squarely in his face, then kneed him in the groin. You then grabbed his gun from him and shoved the head of it right up on to his groin. You opened fire, and blew his genitals to smithereens. Then, you blew his brains out. "YEEEAH! THAT'S MY PRINCESS!" You heard Trevor yell, which made you smile. He'd obviously been watching your every move, then.

The battle raged on for what seemed like an eternity. But in reality, it had only been about ten minutes. Shoot outs like this were usually over before you knew it. But this… God, you wanted it to end.

Now, most of the crew from each side had been killed off. On your side, only you, Franklin, Lamar, and Trevor had remained. Kasha only had herself and two other men. You silently wondered if Michael would make an appearance… But you doubted it, honestly. He had his reasons.

Over on Trevor's end of the parking lot, he was fucking furious. He was livid, because Mikey was no where to be seen. Trevor had nearly _begged _him to show up to this for _him, _and that asshole was still too fucking selfish to even do this favor for Trevor. Fuckin' prick. Trevor should have known better than to expect Mikey to show up… But at least his girl was kicking some serious ass out there.

Finally, the two men that Kasha had left went down. And all that remained was Kasha… Outnumbered, and completely alone. She immediately tried to escape, but you lunged after her like a starving lion running after it's prey. You barreled towards her and tackled Kasha to the ground. "You're _not _getting away this time, you fucking cunt!" You roared, slamming your first into her face. She shoved you off of her and climbed on top of you, returning the punch.

You spat out some blood and grabbed at Kasha's hair, relentlessly trying to yank it right out of her scalp. You kneed her in the gut and threw her over on her side, climbing on top of her again. You slammed your hand down on her throat and gripped it with as much strength as you could muster. You added your other hand, and pressed all of your weight down on her. You watched as she pathetically clawed at your hands, her face turned blue. She gagged and squirmed beneath you, and you were thoroughly enjoying it. A sick, twisted grin grew across your face. A certain fire flickered within your eyes.

Trevor recognized that look all too well. He was almost proud of you, honestly. He walked up to you and Kasha. "Aw, lookit that… My girls turned into a cute little sadist! Make sure you use that sadism in bed next time, princess."

You hadn't heard a single word that Trevor was saying. You were so absorbed in the moment… Watching the life drain from Kasha's eyes by your hands. Slowly… But surely. You felt her pulse progressively weaken beneath your hands. Suddenly, however, you felt two knees jab into your gut hard enough to make you light headed for a bit. Your grip loosened around Kasha's throat, and she took that opportunity to free herself from your grasp. She gasped for air, holding her hand out to you.

"S-Stop! Please! Just… Hear me out!" Kasha pleaded, her words shaken.

You approached her, holding your gut. Trevor followed close behind you protectively, but said nothing. He knew this was your moment.

"Why in the _fuck _do you think that I would even let you talk, huh?"

"Just… Please, _. Hear me out. What you said the last time we saw each other, it stuck with me. The whole "living a lonely life of power" thing. I… I'm sorry. I got lost in power. I lost myself. I killed my own fucking best friends, for god's sake! I never meant for it to get this far…" Kasha's voice sounded weak, like she was holding back tears. She sat on her knees, her eyes meeting yours.

And in that moment, when your eyes met, you saw the real Kasha. The Kasha that _you _had grown up with. A pang of nostalgia and sentimentality rushed through you, and all you could feel was unrelenting sorrow. However, you kept your composure, and aimed your pistol at Kasha's head. Your hand was shaking violently.

"It's too fucking LATE for this, Kasha! You've already dug your fucking grave!" You screamed, advancing towards Kasha threateningly. "You already killed them all! You can't fucking bring them back!"

Kasha knew you well enough to know that you were having a difficult time doing this. She wasn't trying to manipulate you into not killing her like anyone would expect… She was being genuine. "If you kill me, you're no better than me." Kasha said, her tone low.

"FUCK YOU! I will _always _be better than you, bitch! Killing you would make me a fucking saint! Killing you would grant me revenge for _three _fucking people! No, Kasha. I will _never _be like you. Never." Your voice absolutely dripped with contempt.

Trevor watched as the entire scene took place, completely silent. This was getting to him. Watching you go through this… It wasn't exactly pleasant. It was reminding him of the shit that he used to go through with Mikey, except this was far worse. This was nothing compared to the whole Brad drama. He wanted to hold your hand or something, but also wanted to remain distant.

Tears began to show on Kasha's face. "Because of my actions… It's come to this. Because of my sins, my life crumbled. Because of _my _lust for power… It was the death of me. By the hand of my own best friend." She seemed to be talking to herself now.

You pressed the pistol against Kasha's forehead firmly. "At least you recognize how much of a piece of shit you are before I end your miserable life." Your voice was cold, and apathetic. You knew you needed to do this, regardless of what Kasha said.

Kasha looked up at you, and made one final eye contact. "I'll always love you." She said, but it was so quiet that you could barely make it out.

"Fuck you." You spat, then pulled the trigger. The bullet shot into Kasha's head, causing the back of her head to completely blow off with the bullet. Kasha's body collapsed to the ground. You stood there and stared at her corpse for a solid minute in silence.

Trevor placed his hand on your shoulder. He didn't say anything. He knew that nothing he could say would make a difference. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and looked at Kasha's corpse with you. "You did what you had to do. You're free now." He said, trying to comfort you.

You didn't say a word.

Meanwhile, Lamar and Franklin had also witnessed the entire exchange. "Damn, man. That was some heavy shit." Franklin said, shaking his head.

"You're tellin' me, nigga! I couldn't even watch halfa that shit." Lamar replied, the two of them sitting a good distance away from the entire thing.

"C'mon, man. Let's get outta here. We got no business bein' here now." Franklin said, standing up and walking away from the parking lot. Lamar followed. It's not that Franklin didn't care. He did. He just knew that he didn't have a place here right now.

Finally, you started walking back to the Bodhi. However, you sat in the driver's seat. Trevor just went along with it, getting in the passenger seat. You started the truck up, and drove off to Vespucci Beach. The sun was now setting, and it looked absolutely gorgeous.

You stopped the truck at the furthest, less populated area of the beach and stepped out. You walked on to the beach, Trevor following behind you, and stopped at the shore. You thoughtfully looked out into the ocean, your expression rather blank. Trevor stood next to you in silence.

Trevor shuffled. "Look… Nothing I can say here will make a fucking difference. But for what it's worth, I've never seen anyone in my entire life go through what you just went through to that extent. You're a strong woman, _. And, uh… That's why I love you, I guess." His wording was awkward, but he was trying.

That was the first time that you'd ever heard him sincerely say that to you.

You turned to him and gave him a faint smile. "I've never heard you say that before."

"The fuck are you talking about? I say it all the time!"

"No, you don't. Not like that. I can tell that you… Actually meant it."

He looked away. "Well, I do fucking mean it. More than you know, princess."

You felt happy, and it was eating away the apathy within you. The numbness that you'd just been feeling after killing your best friend. It was almost like an ice cube melting in the sun, really. To put it into a cheesy metaphor.

You held Trevor's hand. "I love you too, T."


End file.
